Go Ask Mrs Holmes
by Chewing Gum
Summary: All of London, and especially the women, want to know more about the Holmes family. What better way to sell papers than start a questions column in a publication answered by Mrs. Mycroft Holmes? Questions Accepted.
1. Introduction

Respected readers of "The Constant Companion",

As you know, our column by Mrs. Victoria Bates and her column "Keeping a Moral Household" will no longer run in Companion, as she and Mr. Bates are moving to a small rural town in France. I am sure this has nothing to do with the birth of their latest child and the unladylike rumours that the infant has an unusual skin tone for the child of two Caucasians.

In its place, next week we will introduce our new column, called "Questions to a Holmes Wife" written by Mrs. Ann Marie Holmes, best known as the wife of increasingly known HRM figurehead Mycroft Holmes and sister-in-law to the famous Sherlock Holmes, whose adventures are printed in our masculine equivalent "The Strand".

Each week several questions from our readers will be printed, and Mrs. Holmes will do her best to answer them. Questions about the household, recipes, and ever-wanted insight into the enigmatic Holmes family, all will be accepted as long as they lay in the bounties of good taste.

We welcome Mrs. Holmes to "The Constant Companion", and await her first publication!

_AN: Alright, let's kick this off! First off, do not put questions in your reviews, as that violates the Terms of Service. Send them to me via the private mail link in my profile. As stated above, they will be answered unless they're simply not relevant, if they're repetitive, or if the wife of Mycroft simply isn't likely to know the answer. "The Constant Companion" will usually be published on Friday._


	2. I

_What is it like being married to Mycroft Holmes? _

_- M.M._

To be honest, quite easy. It's horrible to compare marriage to some sort of job, but sometimes it's true. With Mycroft, he leaves his work at the office, and when he doesn't he keeps it in his study. He doesn't try to anaylze every speck of dirt on everything or at least keeps it to himself (you may find Sherlock's conclusions amazing, but they get annoying rather quickly), and he's not always looking down his nose at me for not knowing something or doing something entirely wrong. Also, he's fairly good about picking up after himself, which I've heard is quite rare in men.

_Do you think you and your husband will ever have children? If so, what are your favourite names?_

_- N.B._

Hopefully! I mean, what's a home without at least a child or two? Mycroft hasn't actually said anything about it, but I'm sure he wants an heir. As for names, the first boy will be named after his father and grandfather, of course, Mycroft Sigerson Holmes III. As for a girl, there are so many more options. I've always liked Irene myself, but as her uncle has mixed feelings at best for a woman by that name, it might not be the best idea…

_What's it like having the last name Holmes when it's so famous in London?_

_- A.F._

Sometimes it can be quite flattering when people recognize the name and congratulate me on making such a good match with an intelligent man. Sometimes I get the odd person who's just a bit too much of a fan and thinks I'm Sherlock's wife, and then can quote every passage Dr. Watson ever wrote on Sherlock and women. And then there's the people who assume talent comes with the name, and think just because a Holmes put a ring on my finger I can tell where they've been that day. I usually just tell them they've been around the street we're currently on. Depressingly enough, some act amazed.

_How does Sherlock Holmes act in real life?_

_- C.R._

While I would never accuse Dr. Watson of lying, some of his accounts are a bit enhanced by the admiration he feels for Sherlock, I think. Sherlock sees himself as a heartless mind, and the doctor tries to write him as such. I don't entirely blame him; I don't think his stories would be so popular if they included the detective's little snits he can get into and the rather crude comments he makes for the sole purpose of making the doctor, Mycroft, or myself uncomfortable. I've heard that most geniuses can be brats; I'm glad Mycroft is an exception.

_What do you think of Watson?_

_- J.L._

Dr. Watson's a very respectable man, and has never been anything less than kind to me. It's rather comforting to have him almost always there when Sherlock is, or else I may have ended up strangling the later many times. I'm rather impressed he finds the time to be both a doctor and Sherlock's spaniel. I mean biographer.

_What's the best way to get blood out of cloth?_

_- G.H._

Carbonated water and lemon juice. Unfortunatly, I have to keep both of these things on-hand for washing Mycroft's shirts from time to time. Usually when he's been somewhere with Sherlock. But they're also invaluable to women for a reason we all know.

_AN: It is not required to leave a name with the questions, though if you have one, feel free, though only the initals will be used. If not, I'll just inital your username._


	3. II

_What did you think of Mycroft when you first saw him? _

_What makes Mycroft happy? _

_Does Mycroft like his slippers warmed? _

_- M.P._

I was a little afraid of him in truth. It wasn't just him, of course (though he's quite imposing when he wants to be, and sometimes when he doesn't want to be), it was the whole idea of marriage that had me a little rattled, and the fact that I had to tilt my head up rather uncomfortably to see his face when I was standing close to him didn't exactly help my nerves. Ours wasn't what you might call an average courtship, so these first impressions were not as influential as they might have normally been. Thank heavens for that, because now the only thing I fear from Mycroft is that one of these days he's going to make good on his promise to hang the cat.

Mycroft, as you may have gathered from Dr. Waton's records of him, is very much a man of habit, and therefore I think he's happiest with a quiet evening with the paper and a cup of tea in a good chair. This suits me rather fine, as being in front of a warm fire with my needlepoint is usually what sets me at ease most.

Yes, he does, and I'm rather glad the maid's taken it upon herself to do this task. I'm usually quite excellent at domestic duties, but this is one I never exactly caught the hang of. For the sake of my dignity, I'll spare you the details…

_When one is offered the use of a tantalus and gasogene, and one is not entirely sure what either of those is, what is the polite thing to do?_

_What sewing stitch do you recommend a lady use for the suturing of human flesh?_

_- G.L._

First off, a dictionary is an essential thing to have in a home. We have a huge one too heavy for me to even lift on a stand in the study, and I imagine it has every English word ever uttered in it. It never gets used, however, because I usually just ask Mycroft what a word means. I'm afraid our encyclopaedia set suffers similar neglect. A tantalus, a locked cabinet for storing wine and other liquors, is used much like a wine rack. A good rule of thumb for selecting wine if you don't know much about it is red wine for red meat, white wine for white meat and most fish (salmon calls for red). Fruit and dessert wines, as well as brandy, are for dessert or after-dinner conversation. A gasogene, which is used in the production of carbonated water (unless Mycroft is toying with me and it's something else entirely), contains a chemical reaction to make the water bubble. The water goes in the lower section, the tartaric and bicarbonate in the top, and then the gas pushes the now carbonated liquid out. As they're rather prone to blow up in a person's face, I'd recommend just buying the water pre-carbonated. Mycroft says Sherlock possesses one and displays it for some reason, but all I can ever focus on in their flat is the burn marks and the dagger he insists on keeping his letters gathered with. To say nothing of those blasted bullet holes. No pun intended.

I honestly wish I didn't know the answer to this question… I suppose I'm required to say that a true lady probably should not associate with people who would require such things of her instead of a legitimate doctor. However, if it's completely unavoidable, I'd recommend a tight block stitch, more commonly known as cross-stitch, with a strong darning thread. It's strong as well as flexible to prevent breakage, and it keeps the skin tight to keep out infection. And speaking of infection, be sure to sterilize your thread with alcohol and re-sterilize your needle throughout the process in either clean alcohol or a flame. Also, if you're unfamiliar of the person you're sewing, you may want to wear gloves for your own safety if time's not of the essence.

_Do you know any...dirty little secrets, per se, about your brother-in-law?_

_- E.A._

I know of several, but I think if some of the more embarrassing tales of his childhood were published, he may very well kill me or at least try his hardest to do so. In a similar vein, his more personal life, if my drift is gotten, is none of anyone's business but his, and least of all mine. I will say a few things, however. When he was seven, he once cried for nearly four hours straight after a female cousin of his struck him and knocked out two of his baby teeth. During his first year of boarding school, he once commented that the female lead of the school play was strikingly beautiful only to be told that as it was an all boy's school, the female lead was actually a male, and was never permitted to forget it for most of his school years. Lastly, he once required stitches after he accidentally stabbed himself dangerously near the delicate areas with a steak knife while horsing around at the table when he was eighteen.

_Why does Sherlock look down upon the fairer sex? _

_Has your husband ever made any attempts to stop Sherlock's crude comments? _

_Does Sherlock ever cook and if not how does eat everyday?_

_- C.S._

While I'm not expert in psychology, the first two incidents described above may have something to do with it. In my opinion, however, I just don't think he feels it necessary to understand women, and he loathes knowing anything that's not necessary (he may call me an idiot, but at least I know the order of the planets). He considers us rather menial and dull because the majority of us run a household rather than run around shooting and robbing people or shooting people who have robbed people. It may not be the stuff of novels, but someone has to mend shirts.

In his defence, Mycroft does his best to keep Sherlock reigned, but as you can probably tell from Dr. Watson's writings, Sherlock's never been one to obey trivial things such as social order when a case isn't involved. Mycroft says just to ignore him and he'll lose interest, but it's rather hard to ignore some of the things he comes up with.

They say chemistry and cooking are quite similar, and if a person's good at one they should be at the other. I'm excellent at cooking and yet only passed chemistry in school because a friend of mine did my homework in that subject in return for me doing all her embroidery and sewing projects. Sherlock is the opposite; he's excellent with his chemicals but his meals are just as edible as what he concocts in test tubes. Mrs. Hudson does most of the cooking for her lodgers, and Dr. Watson is a decent hand in the kitchen if that fails. And I'm not quite sure Sherlock _does_ eat everyday. Would he be so ghastly thin if he did?

**elsewhere in London:**

Mycroft had been so deep in his work that he gave a small start when a copy of "The Constant Companion" was slammed down onto his desk. He looked up to see a very angry Sherlock. "Do you have an appointment, sir?"

He wasn't in the mood for jokes. He rarely was. "Your _wife_," he hissed out, face twisted into very uncharacteristic rage that those outside his family rarely saw. "Just told most of London that I briefly had a mental affair with a _man_!"

"She did point out that you didn't know he was a man…" A letter was tossed out his desk, and he drew the paper out after checking the postmark. "I didn't know 'Companion' sold in France."

"Word travels."

"Dear Sherlock, it has been a while since our days at St. Andrew's. I never actually noticed your affections towards me while I was in theatre dress, and had I realized it I would not have led you on so. While I am flattered, I've been involved for someone for a number of years and therefore politely decline…" Mycroft couldn't get any further; he was bent over with a fit of laughter that was as uncharacteristic as Sherlock's rage.

His ears turned red, Sherlock grabbed the magazine and the letter and stormed out, only making his brother laugh harder. When he got home, he'd write a rather scathing letter to one Gilles Andre about purposely jerking on his chain…

When Mycroft got home, he took one look at Ann, remembered the letter, and had to quickly kiss her on the cheek to avoid beginning his laughter anew.

Unused to such impetuous affection, this startled her enough to nearly drop the tea tray, something entirely new for her steady hands, and was skilful enough in balance to recover without spilling a drop. "Really, Mycroft, what was that for?" she questioned, sliding the silver tray onto the end table.

_For giving me the hardest laugh I've had in a long time. _"No reason. As your husband, I didn't think I needed one."

She came over to him, face entirely serious as she laid a hand across his forehead. "No fever… But maybe you should go lie down for a bit, Mycroft. There is something going around."


	4. III

_Is Mycroft really as set in his habits as Dr. Watson would have us believe?_

_- C.P._

I believe that he was at one time, but he's getting better. At the time I met him, Mycroft was going through a series of changes, and I happened to be one of them. To my fortune, he no longer stays at the Diogenes Club all night after work, and does not even frequent there every day. He also lets me drag him out of the house occasionally for a walk just for the sake of a walk, with no real destination in mind. I'm not sure how much he enjoys these walks, but I like them, and he's kind enough to relent to things I take pleasure in.

_What's Sherlock's favourite sport?_

_- B.W._

I'm told that Sherlock boxed and fenced in school. Fencing I believe easily, he has the build for it, but I didn't know they had such a low weight class for boxing. Now I think most of his sport is track, or in elaborated terms chasing clues and criminals all over the city.

_Is there any food Mycroft absolutely can't stand?_

_- P.F._

Though he's hardly a picky eater, there are a few things. He hates most kinds of fish, especially cod (ironically, salmon is one of his favourites). He can't stand green peppers any way, and other kinds have to be cooked or he won't touch them. He's not overly fond of any dishes with too much onion or garlic in them (which I personally count myself lucky for), and he's never been one to drink a lot of coffee. Also, as long as I've known him I've never seen him eat any other ice cream flavour besides Dutch chocolate.

_What were your best and worst subjects in school?_

_- P.T._

My best subjects were most certainly etiquette and domestic training. I suppose being raised in a noble family, certain things came naturally. I excelled at most kinds of stitching, could cook quite well right off the bat, and all my teachers always said that they had never tasted tea better than mine. On the flip side, I was juts short of terrible at mathematics and any kind of science seemed to be my enemy. As I stated before, a friend of mine would do my mathematics and science homework in exchange for me doing her work for the more womanly subjects. As you may be able to tell from my writing I was decent at English, but I still have Mycroft check my work for errors before I send it to the press.

_My husband, who is a most respectable and learned gentleman; (though not quite as high in the ranks of intellect and employ as your own!) has come home today to tell me that we'll be hosting a dinner party for him and his colleagues and their wives. Naturally, I certainly do not wish to let him down, however I don't want the meal and the decor to be too showy nor too mundane. As I'm sure you and Mr. Holmes host and attend many social occasions of this manner what can you suggest in terms of flowers, drink and food? _

_I'm sorry that was such a long-winded question! But I'm afraid I have two more. I have heard that Dr. Watson is a man of a rather flirtatious nature, has he ever tried to charm you? _

_And...if I may be so bold, just how large is Mr. Sherlock's nose, I have never had the honour of seeing him in the flesh. _

_- D.C._

Mycroft and I do attend a number of events (much to his displeasure the majority of the time; he has the social ambition of a hermit), not to mention my finishing school taught similar things. There are many magazines with modern ideas, "Constant Companion" being only one, but there are many simple rules of thumb to act on the fly with. Décor should be seasonal; light pastels in spring, richer gold, orange, and red in autumn, more dark blues and silver in winter, and bold yellows and greens in summer. Flowers are usually sold by season as well, and anyone can make a tasteful arrangement with a few blooms and garnish. For something more elaborate, several different kinds of flowers can be combined as long as the colours compliment. As for food, start with something ordinary and add something special. Chicken with a certain sauce or mix of spices, a roast with a unique basting, or fish garnished with something a little exotic. Again, magazines can be a wonderful help. Before you even start planning, make sure you know any allergies or specifics about the diets of your guests, either by asking them if you know them or mailing their servants if you don't. While a trip to the hospital will make a dinner party memorable, it won't be in a good way. Also, many religions have dietary specifics, and you don't want to look completely ignorant if you have an Indian diplomat over and you make a beef roast.

Dr. Watson is more chivalrous than flirtatious, and sometimes one can be mistaken for the other. I'm sure he's too much of a gentleman to flirt with a married woman and too much of an intellect to do it in front of her husband.

In answer to your final question… While I don't know the exact measurements, it's enough to make me rather glad I am wed to the older brother. I enjoy having the use of both eyes. And yes, I do realize that he'll be having words with me once this is published.

_We know you and your husband have a "May-December" relationship, but exactly what is the age difference between you? Or you and Sherlock?_

_Do you ever wish the man you married was younger?_

_- C.R._

Mycroft was forty when we married and I was seventeen, so there's twenty-three years and two months between him and I. He was born in August, I in October. As you probably know, there's seven years between Mycroft and Sherlock, so there's sixteen years between Sherlock and I, and Dr. Watson and I are seventeen years apart.

I know twenty-three years seems like a lot, and it is, but there are advantages to marrying an older man. To all the young girls out there who have an upcoming marriage to one, they tend to be much more mature than the young men today, and are almost always more gentlemanly. They've had more time to advance their career so will probably be more well off and better able to provide for a household, and their student debts are likely long paid off. Also, they're past the age where they have the need to "spread wild oats", and are likely to be quite loyal to you.

"**Likely" to be quite loyal…? I think I've been insulted. - M.**

_What have you learned of your husband's family, in terms of genealogy?_

_- P.Y._

To be honest, very little. One of the topics that very rarely comes up is family. I'm not quite sure if this is because neither Mycroft or Sherlock wants to talk about it, or they simply don't find it interesting. I must confess that I know little more than what Watson knows; they came from country squires and they are linked by blood to a fairly famous painter. I know their father is dead from an obituary I came across in Mycroft's desk once, and I can only assume that if their mother was still alive I'd have met her by now. I've been searching the study every so often for a family tree of some sort, but so far, little luck. I suppose it's not important, but it's odd to know so little of your husband's history.

_If Mycroft used the same drug as his brother, would you allow him to continue using it after you were married?_

_- R.M_

The husband should always be the head of the household, and it is a wife's duty to oblige to him. He would be perfectly free to use cocaine whenever he wished. As long as he was also perfectly fine with living out on the porch.

**elsewhere in London:**

Mycroft gave a slight hiss as Ann Marie slid under the covers next to him. "Have you been standing outside barefoot? Your feet are freezing!"

"Warm them up, then," she murmured with a smile, sliding them under his legs.

He turned over, face somewhat unsure as he spoke. "Ann…? What you wrote yesterday, about older men being more _likely_ to be loyal? Were you…"

"Oh, that…? I left your little note in, by the way. I thought it fit. Mycroft, it didn't have anything to do with you. I just couldn't put that they're _always_ loyal. I mean, if a girl read that and then her husband was someone who wasn't, then I practically lied to her, and I didn't want to do that."

"True," he admitted, smiling hesitantly. "I… I just want you to know that I'm not like that."

"I know you're not," yawned Ann, rolling over and closing her eyes. "Besides, Mycroft, I honestly don't think you have enough energy for both a mistress and a wife."

"Not enough energy, hmm? I think I have as much as I need," he smiled, reaching over to grab her around the waist, pulling her to him.

She let out a soft squeal devoid of fear, squirming in his grasp. "Alright, alright! I believe you, now please let me go."

He brushed the back of her neck, which always made her curl up. "And what if I don't want to…?"

"Then you'd better hope you have enough energy left to turn down the sheets in the guest room."

His arms were immediately withdrawn. "Fair enough. Good night, Ann."

The girl rolled over, remaining close to him and kissing him on the tip of the nose, smiling at his blush before closing her eyes. There were no hard feelings. "Good night, Mycroft…"


	5. IV

_Does the government ever employ you to do any of their work because of your connection to Mycroft?_

_- C.B._

I'm afraid the only place you're going to find a married couple working undercover for the government together is in novels. Women in the service themselves are a rarity, and usually their training prevents them from marrying. Added to that, would the government really pair two people who are so obviously emotionally attached to each other? Though I help Sherlock on some cases, and some of them may be for the government, I've never worked directly for them and Mycroft is the one paid, not me, and I much prefer it that way. While some dream of a high-drama life fighting Russian takeovers, I'm quite happy managing the household of someone who does it.

Also, if I was secretly working for the government, do you think I would announce it in a popular magazine…?

_Are there any qualities that you think you and Sherlock share?_

_- H.S._

Although I try not to think of them too often, there are some traits in myself that I cannot help but compare to those in Sherlock. We can both be quite stubborn when we want to be, though he's louder about it than I am. We both find our zen, so to speak, in things others rarely do; him in his chemicals, me in my tea making. Finally, and I feel most importantly, we're both quite devoted to anything we deem important in our lives. There is a reason I allow him in our house; I know he would give anything for Mycroft. As would I.

_I am an avid violin player and fencer, and was wondering if your brother-in-law had any tips for practicing either of them. I know fencing is not very...womanly. _

_Are you at all bothered by the discrimination of women in today's society?_

_- E.A._

Sherlock's advice by means of the violin is to keep the fingers from locking up with flexing throughout the day to keep them limber, and to not prevent calluses from forming as hard skin can stop the string's vibrations better than soft. Also, rosin is very important, and ones bow should always be loosened before storing it and the fingers should never touch the hair of the bow. As for fencing, always keep your opposite side in mind as it's the most defenceless, and no matter how honourable you think your opponent is, never turn your back on them with your mask off. I actually have had a little fencing experience, but it was mostly for stage, not practical use, and I hope never to have to use a real sword. I'm rather impartial to violence.

There are many levels at which discrimination can be claimed, some false and some true. For example, there are not many jobs in which women are generally accepted, but though there is little glory in being a wife and mother, there are rewards enough. It is true than men generally run our society, but as to the question as to who is the dominate sex… I know very few men who would not starve if there was not someone cooking for them. I like to think that it's a balance; men will work and provide for their woman while women will work and tend to their man. There are instances, too many instances, where a man will take his wife or daughters for granted and misuse them in some way, and this is truly despicable, and I know that the police do their best to stop it. But if you raise your sons (or train your husbands) to hold the same respect for women as we hold for them, perhaps this will one day cease. Until then, ladies, just remember this; while a married woman is represents solely by her husband in all matters legal, moral, and financial, a widow is in control of her own fate.

**A statement like that posted on the icebox should be enough to garner a little respect from a spouse… - M.**

_Why does everyone go on and on about Sherlock's nose? _

_How would you act and feel if you had married Sherlock instead? _

_Are you happy living in London? _

_- M.P._

I suppose the main reason people tend to dwell on it is that though he is quite famous in the printed word, not nearly as many people see him as imagine him, and when they do it's as a fair-faced hero from a book of maidens and dragons. His features, while far from hideous, are quite sharp, and his nose is prominent, and it is that that people see and realize he is human, now matter how smart. That, and it really is rather… terrible. Mycroft says it wasn't nearly so bad before it was broken twice.

I am honestly not sure how my life would have progressed if Sherlock had been dealt my fate, so to speak. Though I certainly would have put forth the same effort to be a dutiful wife to him, there are habits aside from his aloof personality that I am not sure I could have tolerated. Perhaps it would not have been so bad, with Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson there to keep me from going completely mad, but Sherlock does not strike me as the type to appreciate a wife, and no matter how obedient one is, affection is something we all need occasionally.

I've lived in London my entire life, and I'd be perfectly happy to live the rest of my life here. I know some people find it crowded but I love the complexity of it. You can never truly be bored here; not when there's parks, gardens, museums, and a million other things to poke around. Though visiting the country is nice, I think I'm happiest in the bustling city.

_Though your marriage did not begin as one derived from mutual love, it seems to have developed into one. Is this something that you foresaw as occurring? Or did you think that perhaps Mycroft would always be somewhat aloof? _

_I readily admit that your dear brother-in-law, Mr. Sherlock Holmes has he faults, and that he has been somewhat severe in his manner towards you, but I wonder, do you perhaps have at least a hint of respect for him in considering of his occupation? He does sacrifice a good deal to protect people. _

_- V.H._

Arranged marriages tend to get such a poor reputation because every other pence novel is about some poor girl being married off to a brutish older man. But often, if the parents are truly concerned for their daughter and not just a bride price (and sometimes when they aren't), a marriage that wasn't based on love can work out just fine. I believe a girl marrying a man owes it to herself to at least try to love her husband in the romantic sense of the word, and failing this there are almost always some level of fondness than can be achieved. Quite frankly, I wasn't entirely sure if Mycroft would ever even be fond of me. Ours was a marriage no one had truly anticipated, and therefore I saw myself as a bit of a burden upon him, and tried a little harder to make him at least consider me an improvement on his life. Now I'm quite happy to say that I believe him to be, at the very least, quite fond of me. And he doesn't blush half so often now when I so much as touch his hand.

I have never said that I don't respect Sherlock or his work. After I married I read through many back issues of "The Strand" and read of his cases, and I did feel a great admiration for him and am grateful he uses his gift, as Mycroft does, to help his fellow man. But while I respect him, that does not mean I must like him. I do understand that the nature of his work takes a toll on him, but Mycroft's does as well, and I never see needle marks on the latter's arms.

_How much cosmetic, in your opinion, is a lady able to wear while still remaining a lady?_

_As your husband seems to be less of a misogynist than his brother, are there any aspects of femininity that fascinate or intrigue him, such as watching you brush your hair? (The fiancé of my good friend is guilty of this.) _

K.V. 

In the strictest of terms, a lady shouldn't wear any cosmetics at all. This, of course, is hardly possible in this day and age, and the term "lady" seems to be one that adjusts to the times. Though it sounds horrible, the amount of cosmetics should be what you can get away with. Those with fairer skin and light hair might be suitable with a pale nail polish and a very light, very natural layer of eye shadow, along with a bit of powder. Those with a darker complexion can wear more daring colours, such as a scarlet polish and a shadow to match ones dress, and still keep their refinement. Liner, however, should be used very sparingly on even a very dark complexion, and I like to think that a true British lady always refrains from rouge.

I think while Mycroft is, in his own passive way, curious of most things, the more feminine things he tends to want to leave to females. I believe my hair looks exactly the same to him whether I let it loose or spend an hour doing it up, and corsets are one of the few things that can defeat his wits. He does, however, seem to have a rather curious attraction to the bath oils I use, namely the lavender. As if he needs a calming scent, he's usually nothing but calm.

**elsewhere in London:**

"Mr. Holmes, ma'am…" the maid said uncertainly from the door. "The younger."

Ann Marie looked up from her sewing, not entirely surprised. "Show him in, please. To the sitting room."

Sherlock approached slowly. There was a copy of "The Constant Companion" tucked under his arm. His face was rather expressionless.

The girl rose with a small sigh, setting her work aside on the end table. "I suppose this is about the comment about your usage…? Or perhaps about your lack of affection?"

The detective shook his head, handing her the folded magazine. The second response was underlined. "I would, you know."

Ann Marie gave a queer sort of smile. "I wouldn't have put it if I didn't think it was true."

"I suspected as much. I just wanted you to know. I would."

"As would I."

"I know. Well… I suppose that's it, then. No sense in telling you to stop telling London my business, you didn't listen the first time. Apparently your obedience is to my brother and him alone."

"Largely, yes."

"Just remember, sister mine, you may be family, but if I ever suspect you're making your husband into a cuckold…"

"You're smarter than that, Sherlock."

"I know. Merely a verbal warning." He turned to leave but paused. "You say you respect my work…"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I need to stroke your ego about it. Unless you're going to put on dinner for me, then out. Before I have to get the broom."

Sherlock gave a grin that made him look younger than she was before taking off.

Ann Marie, despite trying her very best, could not restrain a slight smile but tilted her head tentatively upwards. "I may one day be able to tolerate him as a brother-in-law, but please, please never let me have a son like him."


	6. V

**AN: I don't think I have much choice but to dedicate this chapter to C.W.S. Skywalker for either intentionally or unintentionally reminding me of one of the best Sherlock Holmes episodes ever. Also for getting "Sister Suffragette" stuck in my head. I'm quite sure I'm the only one on this planet who wishes Charles Grey was in Mary Poppins. "Disorder…! Chaos…! In short, we have a ghastly mess!"**

**Also, apologies for the longer-than-usual "elsewhere" ending. It wasn't meant to be that long, but I grew fond of the Whitehall crowd.**

_Taking into consideration the family into which you have married, do you hope to someday have children? If so, how many? _

_- V.H. _

I am hopeful that Mycroft and I will have children some day. In most things I believe nurture prevails over nature, and therefore there's a slim chance they will inherit their uncle's desire for chaos if I'm careful in their raising. And besides, they're more likely to take after their father in that aspect. I cannot honestly say how many children I want right now; I've known too many women who wish for six before their first and then after its birth happily settle on one.

_I am currently a university student, and looking for a thesis topic. I am to assume both Holmes brothers went to university. What were their best theses?_

_- S.S._

You are correct, both Mycroft and Sherlock graduated from university (though I've never actually been able to find out what Sherlock majored in). Sherlock's thesis for sociology has become so well-known and has been exaggerated so often that it's been largely written off as an urban legend, but I did get the details from the horse's mouth. He spent an entire semester going onto the school rugby field in a referee's shirt, blew a whistle several times, and then walked up and down the field spreading birdseed. He did this at least five times a week for several months. On opening day of rugby season, the referee stepped out onto the field and blew his whistle, and the game had to be delayed an hour in order to clear the pigeons off the field. Mycroft claims his best thesis to be a political dissection on the colonization of Indian. While I'm sure it's quite brilliant, it's not nearly as interesting to a layman (or laywoman), I'm afraid.

_Do you ever plan to (or are tempted to) encourage (or trick) your husband into losing weight?_

_- J.C._

In short, no. Many people assume that because I myself am considered pretty, I must wish to improve upon my husband's physique. His doctor says he's quite healthy for a man his age and size, and I don't honestly think it in my place to force him, either honestly or dishonestly, to change a lifestyle that he enjoys and more than deserves considering how hard he works. He doesn't overindulge like you might think he does, he's merely mostly sedentary. And health issues aside, I personally like him the way he is. While most females may prefer a strong, young man, I'm quite content with a non-threatening, soft spoken gentleman. Also, he'll be peeved at me for saying so, but the extra padding also makes him quite cuddly.

**A notice to any Whitehall employees or anyone planning to tell this to a Whitehall employee: If I hear a single word about or see so much of a flash of cover from this issue of "The Constant Companion" at the office on Monday, no one will like the consequences. While I will not censor my wife, I have no qualms whatsoever about doing much worse to my employees. - M.**

_I believe I speak for myself and many of the ladies reading when I ask: Exactly how handsome is Sherlock? _

_- E.A._

In my own opinion, not very, but I do realize that as a married woman who never knew him when I was not such, I may not be the best judge. His eyes are a rather lovely shade, and his face does have certain aesthetically pleasing aspects. And, of course, his daring and clever cases make many females think him that much more handsome. If you must gawk at him, I'd recommend you do so from a distance, however. Peacocks are extremely beautiful birds but their beaks are uncommonly sharp and they rarely hesitate to use them. Perhaps he is politer to those outside his family, but why take the chance?

_Would Mycroft ever let you go to one of those suffrage movement protest, if you wanted to participate? _

_Does Mycroft ever lend a hand around the house in terms of cleaning, cooking, and the like? _

_And, one more question. My dear brother, five years my junior, has recently become besotted with a disreputable woman. He refuses to listen to anything to be said against her or her reputation. I am convinced such an attachment would be detrimental to him and his studies at school. Any advice on how to talk sense into him?_

_- C.S._

Mycroft's wonderful about letting me run my own life in the aspects of it that don't entirely concern him, but I don't think I would need him to forbid me from going to a protest. I'm for equality as much as anyone, and women probably should have the vote (as if half of wives don't already have their husband's), because I think it would shift a lot of campaigns towards issues such as divorcee's pension and custody rights. At the same time, however, I believe there are better ways to go about things than to chain oneself to carriages. Mind you, while he'd allow me to go, I don't think he'd be too keen on attending himself.

I'm lucky in the sense that I married a man who is rather neat. He rarely leaves a mess anywhere, and I'm not certain but I suspect that even the loose papers in his desk drawers and in some kind of order. The maid does the majority of heavy cleaning, and Mycroft works hard enough at Whitehall that I don't expect him to come straight home and pick up a dust rag. And, to be perfectly honest, I'm glad he doesn't help with the cooking. If you've ever attempted to eat his cooking, you would be, too.

**For the final time, it was not _that_ bad. - M.**

Talking sense into boys, especially boys with an infatuation, is usually as effective as talking to a brick wall. This may sound a little callous, but if he is nowhere near the age or position in which he will soon become married, then it may be best to just let his feelings run their course. Make it known that you disapprove of the woman, but if you try to stop him from being near her you will probably only make him desire the forbidden more. In the meantime, introduce him to some more respectable girls. I would not worry too much, however. They grow up quickly and come to as much sense they'll ever have.

_What are some secrets to making a perfect cup of tea? _

-K.V. 

Most people fail to realize that different teas need to be prepared differently. If your tea of choice is quite fine, you do not have to steep it as long, but if you are using leaves it might take a bit longer for the flavour to seep out. The blacker the tea, the hotter the water needs to be (green tea does not even need to be brought to a boil). To keep the flavour untarnished, rinse the inside of both your pot before brewing and the cups before bringing them out with hot water. Place the tea in while the water is still boiling with British teas and serve it as soon as possible. Add only room temperature milk to the cup as wanted or directed _before_ pouring the tea in (to avoid scalding it). And, of course, while teabags may be more convenient, loose leaf tea will always taste the best.

_Do you believe in ghosts? I normally don't, but we've recently moved, and there are some sounds I don't think is the house settling…_

_- F.G._

There are no such thing as ghosts because they are impossible by the laws of physics. This is what Mycroft tells me, and I believe him, but I still make sure that the attic door is locked every night before bed.

**elsewhere in London:**

"Non-threatening? Soft spoken? I don't know who the hell this girl is talking about, but I don't think it's Mycroft Holmes," murmured Reg Janii from where he was perched on top of his desk, thumbing through the magazine.

"Monsieur Holmes said he'd get nasty if he heard us talking about that," Damien Dante warned, glaring at the younger employee. "Besides, there are much more important things! The injustice that the theatre world is imposing upon womankind, for instance!"

He raised an eyebrow, looking to the newest employee and the only female among them. "Francis? Translation, please?"

Emily Francis pushed up her glasses and brought over the coffee pot. She could smell that she had burnt it. Again. It wasn't her fault, she kept telling herself. She was an apprentice, not a secretary. She could probably do physics better now at seventeen than the rest of Holmes's personal team could at thirty. "He saw 'The Mikado' last night."

"Aw, Christ…"

"It was a travesty, Blanche! I knew the English treated their women horribly, but referring to female novelists as _anomalies_…!"

"If you don't like it, go back to France," murmured Derrick Hanes from the back of the room, startling everyone else who usually believed him to be asleep.

"Yeah, you bloody Frog."

"You're one to talk, Saudi!"

"I was born in Sussex, you wine-swirling…"

"Easy, you two…" Emily said slowly, not wanting a fight but not wanting to get in between them. "Dante, there _aren't _many woman writers, maybe it was meant as satire…"

"There would _be_ more English women writing if most of them weren't snatched up by cradle robbers and forced to change from their school uniform into wedding dresses! I swear to god, the state of things…!"

"Oh, would you give it a rest for one day?" sighed Reg, going to the back window and tossing the magazine through it and throwing a cup of the horrible coffee on top of it to distort the cover before closing it again, hoping that if his employer was for some reason in the ally and found it, he couldn't place it to him. Besides, they had to use the coffee somehow, and it certainly wasn't fit to drink.

"No, I will not! And Monsieur Holmes, the nerve of him! Claims to be a gentleman and takes a poor young girl who's never spread her wings into his bed, dominated her in every way…"

"I knew Mrs. Holmes in school, Dante," sighed Emily. "We had cooking together. Marriage suits her."

He either did not hear or did not care. "The only positive aspect she can find in him is that he's _cuddly, _and… And…" The Frenchman swallowed dryly as his fellow employees backed away slightly. "He's right behind me, isn't he…?"

"Of course not, Mr. Dante," rumbled the familiar voice. It always surprised Damien how quietly a man of that size could move when he wanted to. "That would be a cliché."

It was near noon before they would speak to Damien again.

"You and your big French mouth," snarled Reg from behind a stack of boxes. Emily look dismayed as she rooted through them, and Derrick actually looked awake.

"Shut up," was his weak response.

"We'll be doing these tax returns through Christmas!"

"Shut _up_!" There was a long pause. "I honestly doubt that he would allow his wife at a suffrage rally. Men like him don't want women to have a voice."

"This woman has a voice, and she's using it to tell you to stuff it before I do something about it."

"Go ahead, you English women don't seem to get anything done anyway." He had to hit the floor as an accounting book sailed towards his head.


	7. VI

**AN: The episode that jumped to my mind was "The Golden Pince-Nez" from the wonderful Jeremy Brett (and Charles Grey) series "The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes". I can't remember the exact details, but Mycroft is trailing a suspect and winds up in the middle of a suffrage rally. I believe "Poppycock!" is a direct quote. Also, I have no idea but I listened to Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" on repeat while writing "elsewhere". I don't even like Beyonce that much.**

_Mrs. Holmes, I too had an arranged marriage, and while I am grateful to have made a good match and that my husband is very kind to me, he's always leaving his towels around the bathroom after he's bathed, which is a pet peeve of mine because it can discolour the tile floor over time, not to mention it makes the towels harder to iron the next time. I hate to nag to him and it's such a minor detail that it doesn't seem worth upsetting a marriage for but it's driving me insane! Is there anything I can do to deter him from this, or is it just something I have to grin and bear?_

_- A.W._

If there was a textbook written for men to read on their wives, the answer to this question would be that a wife simply must put up with some things. This column, however, is meant for advice, and "deal with it" is not very good advice. Luckily, I came across a similar problem earlier on in my marriage, so I had a reliable strategy. Mycroft is rather fond of cigars, but I cannot stand the smell or the smoke from them, and it lingers on long after it's been butted. Even when he only smoked in his study I could smell it upstairs for hours and it would make me half sick. You are right in knowing that nagging is not the answer; not only is it unbecoming, it is usually ineffective. I also knew there was no sense in fighting so earlier on over something like that. My solution? Start doing little things that you know he hates. Nothing too big, just things like burning his toast slightly in the morning, "forgetting" to bring the sugar bowl to the table, ironing creases slightly uneven, and leaving the window in the study open a crack to let a chill in. Do these things more frequently when his bad habit is performed the most frequently. This can work one of two ways. If you husband is one of the smarter ones, like Mycroft, they will quickly realize that you must be doing these things for a reason, and with proper timing they will understand why and stop doing it. If they are less intelligent, they will come to associate your negative actions with theirs and become adverse to them. I'm pleased to say I succeeded in getting Mycroft to smoke outside in under a month.

If this fails to work, just start hiding the towels until he promises to pick up after himself.

_I just received a ring from my older brother for my birthday. It is a series of small diamonds set in the outline of a heart. What is the proper etiquette for the way it should be facing? Should the point be towards me or away from me?_

_- N.P._

The answer I've always given is that the point should be facing away from the wearer so that everyone else can clearly see it is a heart. After all, you already know. Also, some people believe it to be bad luck to have any point in jewellery facing towards yourself if it can be avoided.

_Do you have a favourite novel?_

_- A.R._

I've always been fond of George Eliot's "Middlemarch". It's a hard novel to get into, but the result of long introductions is by the middle of the book you feel quite strongly for the cast of characters. As much as I loved it, however, I will always attest that Dorthea Causbon is the furthest thing from a true lady that I can think of. If Mycroft took a stroke I would most certainly not be going behind his back with his cousin.

**Nevertheless, I can be comforted by the fact that I don't have any cousins. - M.**

_What is the single worst case of a faux pas you have seen so far?_

_- E.H._

This is, sadly enough, a hard call. Common sense when it comes to etiquette is becoming far from common these days and it's truly a shame that some people have all the luxury they could wish for and still behave like barnyard animals. I suppose the worst example of someone acting beneath themselves is one example of "if you do not have something nice to say, do not say anything". I became engaged to Mycroft when I still had a month of school left and came from my first meeting with him wearing my diamond engagement ring. One girl who I will not name out of manners took one look at it, turned up her nose, and proclaimed that it was probably fake (which it mostly certainly is not). Even if it had been a fake diamond I do not think it does anyone any good to announce such a thing. One thing I cannot stand is people looking down their noses at others. Civility is something we can all manage.

_What was you family like before you married? Any brothers or sisters? _

-K.V. 

I have two older brothers, one older than me by two years and one by one. Despite being close in age we weren't terribly close emotionally; they had a different nanny and went to a boy's school. My grandmother from my mother's side also lived with us until I was fifteen and she passed on of natural causes.

_Has Mycroft ever been injured in the line of duty?_

_- F.W._

Mycroft is very rarely in any danger as he mostly works from behind his desk at Whitehall. He was caught in the middle of a slight firefight in the foyer of the offices several years ago, however and though he boasts to me about the horrific wound he sustained there's only a tiny scar on his arm from where it barely nicked him.

**It is not _tiny_ and it hurt a great deal for your information. - M.**

_Has Mycroft ever tried to get Sherlock educated in the subject of politics? _

_Are you or your husband religious? _

_How would you deal if your child had the rather irksome qualities of his or her uncle?_

_- C.W._

I don't think he's dared to. Sherlock is so dead set against knowing anything that is not useful to him that I don't think he can name five constellations off the top of his head. Trying to convince him that it matters knowing who makes the rules would be an impossible task. Besides, I think the only authority Sherlock will ever have true respect for is the monarchy.

I was baptized Anglican, went to a Protestant school, and married in a Presbyterian church so I do not know exactly what I am. That and I'm afraid I think I slept through more Religious Studies classes than I was awake in so I'm not quite sure I could tell you what the differences between them are. We don't attend church services but I'm in the belief that if you are generally a good person then you are following whatever plan has been laid for you. I'm not sure what sect that is if it is one. I believe Mycroft and Sherlock were both baptized as a Catholic by the insistence of their father's family but Mycroft has never objected to roast on Fridays and has a few books by a Mr. Darwin that I don't think His Holiness has approved.

It would honestly depend what qualities. If it were his sharp tongue then I believe there is nothing wrong with a few swats across the backside until a child learns decent manners. If it was the desire for chaos and excitement sometimes the best thing to do is let a youngster learn that actions have consequences and see how much of a daredevil they wish to be when they hurt themselves. If it were the abuse of certain substances than something more than a mere swat might be required…

_Does Sherlock actually have ten or twelve cases on hold?_

_- M.J._

At any given time? Doubtful. Dr. Watson tells me that he gives up thrice as many cases as he takes simply because he does not find them interesting. Honestly I cannot blame him for wanting to track over London looking for a rich widower's lapdog. He is also not one to simply give up a hunt in the middle of it if there is still any kind of a scent (he's much like a very determined bloodhound). Although I do know he is very important I often think he wants others to think him more indispensable than he is.

**elsewhere in London:**

"You'll go mad if you keep staring at that. Or at least people will think you so if they see you reading a woman's magazine."

Fredrick Chaplin sighed, closing the copy of "Constant Companion" and setting it back on the rack. "I hate him, Martin. I really, really do."

"Who?" questioned the darker haired, young boy without looking up from his law books. Along with scholarships and his employment at the small corner shop where his elder brother worked around the clock he was just barely paying his tuition. He was also eating twice a day only if he was lucky. "Our father or our brother-in-law?"

"Both of them," the tow-head insisted, crossing his arms and giving the scowl that had become characteristic. "She didn't deserve this, you know."

"I know, Fred. I know. But Holmes seems like a decent sort. And you've seen her in passing just as much as I have even if she doesn't see us, and doesn't she look happy? Even when she's with him?"

"Ann Marie's always been a good actress."

"But a horrible liar. Would you rather her living this life? The life father would have gotten her into so deeply she couldn't ever hope to get out? She's so young, Fredrick."

"Too young to be a wife!" he snapped.

"Much too young to be a prostitute! Mr. Holmes takes care of her, I know that much, and while she may not love him I don't think he gives her any reason to loathe him. Sometimes… Sometimes that's the best a woman can hope for."

Fredrick fell back against the wall, uncrossing his arms and crossing them again the same way out of mere restlessness. "That's depressing."

"I know."

Both straightened when a man and a woman entered the small shop, the man tall with dark skin but a British accent and the girl short with glasses that hid any beauty she may have possessed otherwise. Whatever they had been discussing before they entered was lost on the brothers.

"Humble accountant," began the girl, ticking off each syllable she spoke with a finger. "A saviour from an armchair, brother mere arch-angel… Wait, one too many. Humble accountant, a saviour from an armchair, unsurpassable."

"You're a kiss-ass even away from work, girlie," sighed the dark man as his companion placed money down for a copy of a hardbound physics journal, an odd purchase for a lady. "Alright… Thick glasses hide sparks, that could attract gentlemen, yet long for women."

Martin winched when he heard the crack of cover on skull."The only think I'll say about our fate is that there are more interesting people here than in university…"

His brother only gave a nod and headed out back to unload newspapers. It would be another night of newsprint stains and an aching back. He was thankful for his sister's saviour but at the same time he prayed every single day that he would never hurt her.


	8. VII

_I have read about you and your cat. I am a cat owner also, and if Pickles makes an awful mess in the middle of the sitting-room rug, how can I clean it up quickly? i.e. before my husband gets home? _

_- E.A._

We all love our pets but sometimes they can be a pain, if not to us than to our loved ones. Or our furnishings. A mixture of half vinegar and half warm water mixed with a bit of lemon juice will get any stains (and smell) out of fabric even if they're set in.

**Alternately, get rid of the cat. - M.**

_How is Sherlock's landlord able to put up with him doing a bit of target practice in the wall with his revolver? Does he do that? _

_Does Sherlock actually smell of peppermints? My friend swears she heard this from a _very _reliable source._

_-M.J. _

I honestly don't know how Mrs. Hudson stands him. The woman must have the patience of a saint to keep him for a boarder because I find him grating on my nerves when he comes over for dinner. I have asked her about the more than distracting sound of gunfire and she simply tells me that after so long in a marriage or motherhood a woman can develop very acute selective hearing. Yes, he does do it and the evidence is in his walls. I don't care if it's a salute to the queen it's ghastly for the interior.

Whenever I'm around him Sherlock usually smells of either strong tobacco or chemicals. I've only gotten a whiff of peppermint once or twice.

_My husband and I are expecting a baby and I want to give it a unique name that will make it stand out in the world; something along the lines of a Greek name like Hermes or Athena although neither of us are Greek. My husband says that we should give the child a "normal" name and that an odd name will only single it out. Do you think odd names give a child an advantage in the real world?_

_- K.P._

You may be asking the wrong person as I do not think I am legally allowed by law to even consider a normal name for a child bearing the Holmes name. Quite honestly I like unique names (luckily) and like the choice Hermes, but perhaps a compromise would be best. My suggestion is to give them a "normal" middle name that they can use later in life if they are unhappy with an odd choice. If it's any help, I think my husband and his brother got rather far with unusual names.

_This may be a bit of a touchy subject… My husband and I are unable to conceive and while he was unenthusiastic about adoption at first I convinced him of it and now we have two children that we adore? Would you consider an adoption and do you endorse them?_

_- L.H._

I find this to be a rather touching story. If I were unable to have children of my own, and perhaps even if I was and merely wanted to do so, I believe I would love an adopted child as much as one of mine and Mycroft's blood. Perhaps more so as I could not begrudge the birth against them. I am not quite sure how much of a position I am to "endorse" something, but I do applaud mothers who take in the unwanted children and make them wanted.

_I recently married an older man who has a daughter from his first marriage. The trouble is that his daughter is only a year younger than I am. While I am not trying to replace her mother and my husband's late wife I do feel that she should give me some respect as I am an authority figure in the house. Currently she's making it her business to make me miserable. Do you have any advice on how I can get her to behave?_

_- A.U._

My advice would be to not be a disciplinary to her, be a friend. She may be still grieving for her mother depending on how many years ago she passed on or she may see you as getting between her and her father. Try to assure her that you are not trying to be a mother to her and because she is so close in age you may have a lot of similar tastes. Be friendly with her but don't overwhelm or smother her and I think you will be able to form a truce.

_Exactly who is your favourite writer at the current time?_

_- B.L._

As far as writing goes I would pick George Eliot. As for looks, despite all the scandal surrounding the poor man nowadays I've always found Mr. Wilde to be rather handsome.

**Dorian Grey was page upon page of trying to get to a metaphor that never happened. - M.**

_Have you ever had the opportunity to assist your brother-in-law with one of his cases? (If not, do you think would he ever accept your assistance in a case?) _

- K.V. 

I have participated in one of Sherlock's cases although I'm afraid I did not do much. It was an environment where a woman was taken less notice of than a man and I merely acted as a combination of a decoy and a lookout. I would not say it was boring but it was not interesting to make it into "The Strand". Sherlock will do whatever it takes to solve a case even if it means asking my help.

_This is actually the husband of one of your very regular readers writing in for advice. My wife saves little mementos from what she considers major events in her life; important invitations and letters, birth announcements and obituaries, and even playbills and tickets. She still has every letter I sent her while we were courting. She keeps them in a box so it is not if they make a mess. Is this normal for a woman or am I married to a packrat?_

_- W.H._

Many women, more than men I've found, feel the need to keep things that remind them of the happiest (or saddest) times in their lives. They can help refresh the memory years after the event has occurred and remember how wonderful it was. I have a small chest full of items that I would not part with for the world. The invitation to my wedding, a few flowers from my bridal bouquet pressed in a book, and the few letters my husband and I exchanged before we were wed. I also have some little treasures that would not mean much to anyone else but remind me of pleasant things (the label from a bottle of fever medicine is there, as is a needle in an enamel box). As long as it is not creating a clutter I would consider you lucky that your wife wants to remember times spent with you.

**elsewhere in London:**

"The maid said I might find you up here," Mycroft said as he ascended the folding steps he did not entirely trust up to the attic. It was a large room, likely as big as their bedroom, and Ann Marie's housekeeping meant that there was not a speck of dust even though not much was up there. "You could keep that trunk in our bedroom, you know."

The girl was seated on the floor, her legs out to the right, carefully replacing items into it. "Things like this belong in the attic. A place for everything and everything in its place. That's what…"

"Your mother always said?" he finished, looking down but not joining her on the floor.

Her face flushed a little. "My grandmother, actually. Along with everyone else's grandmother, I suppose." She sighed, closing the etiquette book her mother had presented to her on her wedding night. She had already had a copy and therefore kept the three lilies pressed within pink tissue paper between the pages. Also within the covers was something Mycroft did not know about; an offshoot the photographer had made near the end of the evening, no doubt including it because even one picture was expensive and he did not want to admit he had been tipping a glass towards the end of it.

The pair had their backs to the camera, Mycroft's hand halfway to her back and the other on her shoulder to catch her, her about to fall into the floor. She had never liked heels but her mother had insisted that she seem so much shorter than him at the aisle. Or so she had said; perhaps she merely did not want her to make a run for it.

She had felt so clumsy at that moment. So useless. So much of a burden upon a man who did not deserve it. But she had not fallen. Mycroft had caught her. That was something she wanted to remember for a long, long time.

His voice shook her from her thoughts. "You did not give yourself nearly enough credit for that case, you know."

"You think I want most of London knowing I was in a bar like that dressed like… Well, not dressed very appropriately?" Ann Marie placed the book in and closed the lid, latching it. "… Do _you_ think I'm crazy for saving these things?"

Mycroft sighed, offering his hand out to her. "Come down, I'll show you something."

She took it and was easily pulled to her feet, following her husband to his study.

He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, drawing from it a battered tin box. Setting it on top of the desk he opened it and removed the item on top of the small collection. He undid the cardboard flaps and slid the fifty-two thin pieces of waxed paper out into his hand.

"Are those…?" gasped Ann Marie, a smile spreading across her face.

"I hate to seem sentimental, but…" the man sighed, sliding the deck of cards back into the box. Perhaps not the most romantic memento but it was one he held dear and kept in the tin box his grandfather gave him right alongside Father's magnifying glass (so scratched up from its final case with the second Mycroft that it would never serve its purpose again) and the mathematics test he had gotten in the mail when he was twenty with a mark of ninety-six and the postmark of a very proud younger brother.

He wondered briefly if Sherlock had ever remembered to round up when the digit was five.


	9. VIII

**AN: My apologies for the lack of an installment last week but NaNoWriMo mopped the floor with my soul. I did, however, finish! Remember to keep those questions coming! Also, a "friend" refered me to several articles that suggest the character of Mycroft Holmes was based on Oscar Wilde and therefore I am not responsible for the "elsewhere" installment.**

_My husband refuses to drink any tea other than orange pekoe, but the price of it has gone so high! Do you have any suggestions for substitutions? _

- M.G. 

For those who don't know, orange pekoe is a type of black tea (despite the name) of a medium grade, usually consisting of whole, new leaves of a medium size. More commonly the term is used for any new black tea leaves. It comes in a wide scale of quality, so to save money I might suggest going down the ladder. To be honest, even to the most sensitive palate there is not a huge difference between a rank or two. Also, bagged tea is always cheaper than whole leaves.

_My brother is a lawyer and he tells me it is bad manners to leave ones gloves on inside a person's home if the call is strictly business. Is this true, and if so why?_

_- E.B._

It is true that leaving ones gloves on is rude for a business caller, especially for a gentleman. When on business one is only rarely invited unless it is a meeting and removing the gloves is considered as a self-issued invitation to linger at the house. Even ladies should not remove the gloves or coat unless invited in so as not to seem presumptuous.

_Have you and your husband ever quarrelled badly? What is the best way to diffuse a martial fight?_

_- C.S._

Mycroft and I are both lucky in the aspect that neither of us is one for fighting. There have been disagreements, of course, and sometimes voices get raised but those occasions are thankfully few and far between. The only time he's had to sleep in the spare room was not because of a fight (I had a terrible cough and he needed to be up early). I think the best way to calm down any fight is for everyone involved to calm down and take a breath and think before they say anything more. Harsh words can do a lot of damage even when they are not meant.

_My husband wants to name our next son after his favourite club. Please tell him he's insane._

_- D.F._

He's insane. If you name a child after a social club, it's obvious your priority is with your friends and not where it should be, with your family. The only way I would name a child Diogenes is if the poor creature was born in the club, and only then a middle name.

**I honestly do not see the fault in "Diogenes". It's hard to find that line between a unique name and one that is just plain horrible. - M**

Yes, and "Diogenes" crosses that line. I will not purposely try to raise a recluse.

_This may seem like an odd question, but what is the proper way to tell someone they have a spider in their hair? My mother-in-law had one in her locks recently and we were at a dinner party so I did not wish to make a scene. I also did not want her to do the same, as she is deathly afraid of anything with more than four legs. This story did not end well at all but at least I was not blamed for the ruined tablecloth._

_- I.H._

I cannot blame your mother-in-law in the least bit, as anyone who knows me will attest that anything that crawls is an enemy of mine. I would say that the best way to deal with this would be to say something along the lines of "Oh dear, something seems to be in your hair. Would you like me to get it?", then to discreetly throw the offending insect or arachnid aside.

_What is the seating arrangement for a formal dinner party? This may sound like a basic question but very etiquette manual I've checked says something different about the spouse of the guest of honour. Some say that the spouse should be beside him, others say beside the hostess._

_- F.D._

The later is the correct arrangement. Modern etiquette dictates that the host takes the centermost chair with his wife to his left and the guest of honour (someone who has come a long way to be there, someone who was recently engaged, promoted, etcetera) goes to his right. If the guest of honour's wife is present then she is seated on the other side of the hostess.

_I've recently become aware that there are certain works of fiction about Sherlock Holmes, among others, circulating London in small newsletter printings or simply being passed around. They detail adventures that did not actually happen but people instead took it upon themselves to write. Is Mr. Holmes aware of these?_

_- W.S._

He is now.

**elsewhere in London:**

Mycroft took a deep breath, taking a moment to primp the bouquet of lupines a bit before he entered the house. The girl had been so down lately and it distressed him to see her looking half-wilted. Why couldn't she understand that when he said that children were not a huge priority for him, he _meant _it? Still, flowers could always put a smile on her face and at the moment it was all he could think to do.

"Ann...?" he called out as he opened the door. He heard giggling from the sitting room that sounded like one of Ann's friends and then his brother's voice stating "I wish I had half of their spare time."

The blonde girl emerged into the hallway, grinning broadly. "Mycroft, you're home! We were just... Oh, lupines!" She kissed him on the cheek when he transferred them into her arms.. "You're so sweet. I'll go put them in a vase.

"What's going on in there...?" hr questioned, peaking into the sitting room. Catherine and Fiona were settled on the floor and Sherlock and Watson occupied the sofa. The whole room was littered with stacks of paper and torn envelopes.

"Since I published that question about all those stories fans of Sherlock wrote, people decided to send them in. They all came in the mail today, I knew there were a few stories making the rounds but this..."

"Mycroft!" greeted Sherlock with a broad grin. "Excellent! You should see some of these! Your wife's a succubus in this one. And to think I objected to Watson printing some of the cases she was involved in..."'

He looked towards where a few of the papers were arranged into stacks. "What are those ones?"

"The romance ones," Catherine smirked as she sorted through the mess. "The biggest pile is the ones about Holmes and a certain opera singer, the second is Holmes and Watson, I'm keeping some of those by the way, third is you and Ann and the rest are... miscellaneous."

"Miscellaneous?"

"Oh, you know, stuff with Lestrade and the other inspectors... Oh, Ann! Look at this one! 'Rubies and Gold', looks good."

Ann re-entered the room, setting the vase of flowers on an end table and flipping to the middle of the story before throwing it back at her friend amidst her laughter. "_Catherine_! Relations outside marriage is horrible, and I've never even _met _Mrs. Norton. Burn that one!"

"Are you insane? That's going in my keep pile."

"Give it here, I mean it!"

Fiona held up another one to her. "You take this one before the pair of you kill each other. Apparently Oscar Wilde works for the government at Whitehall."

Mycroft shifted his weight a bit. _Perhaps in every pound of fiction there's an iota of truth._ He saw a look of joy spread across his wife's face. "What's that about? ... Wait, did that come out of the miscellaneous romance pile?" Her smile was enough for him to try and snatch it away. "Ann, that isn't funny!"

"Do you think 'The Strand' would publish any of these?" questioned Sherlock, musing about which would be the most stealthy way to kick both romantically inclined piles concerning himself into the fireplace.

"I should hope not," Watson replied, thumbing through a rather long manuscript. Apparently Mrs. Holmes's "accidental" marriage had been orchestrated by the British monarchy to place her in the hands of a trusted civil servant because she was truly the heir to the throne. And also half vampire. "These would put me out of a job."


	10. IX

**AN: I keep meaning to mention that there's a poll on my bio regarding "The Girl", so go check it out if you feel so inclined. Also, give Pompey's (whose review formed this week's "elsewhere") new story, "How Mycroft REALLY Was Married", for a sample of one of the Victorian fan fictions from the previous chapter would run. You won't be disappointed, I promise.**

_What does Lesterade look like? I personally have never seen him, and one of my friend's friends says her sister has dated him. She included a descriptive description of him, but I personally doubt she is telling the truth. _

_Secondly, does Sherlock drink tea? _

_And lastly; there is a certain rumour going around about Sherlock and a certain stuffed bear named Mr. Snuggs. please alert him of this. _

-M.J. 

Inspector Lestrade is a rather tall man (between the heights of the Holmes brothers and Watson) and somewhat gangly with green eyes and rather charming ginger hair. He is fairly handsome and, from my impressions, not nearly as dense as people think. Anyone comes off as an idiot near Sherlock and I know this from personal experience. She may be telling the truth; I have only been introduced to the inspector a handful of times and know nothing of his personal life.

Sherlock drinks tea only when someone else makes it.

He has been alerted and claims it is not true. Mycroft confirms this fact. Apparently he had a security blanket until he was four but was never fond of stuffed animals.

**It's true. He never saw the point in finding comfort in a piece of cloth shaped like a dangerous animal. - M.**

_My mother insists that certain old wives' tales are true and she insist on following some to the letter. I am tired of the constant superstitions that she is trying to impart on myself and my brother. How can I convince her not to impart on us, without hurting her feelings? _

How can one hide from parents various 'forbidden, heretical, and blasphemous' books that said parents and the bulk of the population disapproves of, but I have read?

A friend recently has taken up some of the various unsavoury ideologies, like socialism. His friends and family are worried about him and his future. I am, for the most part, neutral in this quarry, but I wish he would stop flaunting it in his family's face. Any ideas about how this conflict may be resolved? There is also another little problem. His parents see marriage and family life as a cure for this 'insanity'. Unfortunately, they also see me as a suitable candidate for this little endeavour. I see him as a brother and a dear friend, not in any other way. Suggestions on how to resolve this conflict? 

_- C.S._

Some old wives' tales are true; fish is good for the mind, thumb sucking can lead to crooked teeth, and feeding chocolate to a dog will likely kill it. Many, many more aren't true, however, and I think every child hears their fair share of them. My suggestion would be to merely point out that certain ones are not logical. This failing, let your brother know privately that these are not the truth. Some of these tales are told with good reason, however; my brothers stopped making faces after our grandmother threatened that they'd stick like that.

Under the mattress, in the dust jacket of another book, or, size permitting, under the top tray of a jewellery box. I only know these things because I come from a boarding school, not because I myself find them practical.

In this case, being blunt may be the best thing. Take your friend aside and tell him as politely as possible that not everyone needs to hear his opinions and that you are concerned that if he keeps saying these things that he will upset people. Regarding the second problem, use the same strategy. Talk to your parents and his and explain that you do not feel you would make a good match for him. Another strategy if you're more prone to deceit than I is to recruit a male friend and fake a courtship, quietly letting it go when your other friend is married. If this doesn't work (as cold as this may sound, and it is not intended to be as such), marriage between good friends work better than marriage between enemies, and a wife holds more sway over her husband's tongue than over a friend's.

_Mrs. Holmes, I have always been forgetful. I have to write down every little thing or else it slips out of my mind, and last year in school my room was a disaster with papers everywhere. This time, however, I'm panicking. My brother entreated me with an engagement ring for a woman he loves very much so that she would not find it and I can't find it anywhere!_

_- F.R._

Although I've been accused of being scatterbrained more than once, I rarely misplace things. By the sounds of your letter, you may well have lost it in your own room. Go through it and clean thoroughly, sorting things out and see if you find it there. Repeat with any other rooms you may have left the ring in. If all else fails, admit to your brother what happened. There is a chance that he moved it to keep it from his future fiancée.

_Dear Mrs Holmes, my cousin has a dear friend who will insist on almost constantly flirting with me. I am extremely fond of my cousin who is a very naive young man of 19 and I do not wish to upset him. I am only 3 years older than him, and two years older than the friend who I shall call Jim, but I am also a married woman. So the attention this young man gives me is most unwelcome upon my part. However, aside from the flirtatious attitude towards me I have no ill-will towards Jim which is why I do not wish to alert my husband. Richard is a wonderful man whom I am very much in love with but he is easily angered where my honour is involved. And when roused, his temper is quite fierce and he may do this young man some harm. So, my question is (and I am quite sorry for the long preamble) how do I deal with Jim's flirtations? I have made it quite clear to him and my cousin that I find them unwelcome but he will persist. _

_-D.S. _

You are right not to involve your husband at this point. Men can be so primitively sudden to defend their wives no matter how gentlemanly they are, and as long as Jim has not made any physical advancements there is no sense getting him angry over it. As you have already told Jim as well as your cousin that you plan on remaining faithful to your husband, the only solution may be to avoid Jim. If he will not respect your wishes then perhaps removing yourself from his company is the best solution. If you wish to refrain from upsetting your cousin, merely do this discreetly and claim you are not doing it purposely.

_My mother claims it is in poor form to have candles out for display that have never been lit, while I think it's best to have new ones in the best holders. What is your opinion?_

_- S.G._

I'm afraid your mother is right on this one. When you have a new candle in a holder it implies that it is only there for show and it makes it look rather frivolous. If you wish to, simply light the candle for a few moments before blowing it out.

_Does your husband have any small habits or vices that annoy you?_

_-K.V._

**I sense a loaded question... - M.**

I think that every person you will ever meet in your life has a habit or a vice that annoys you. When you are married to someone, you have more time and opportunities to learn every single one. Mycroft's sole vice is smoking and I cannot stand the smell of tobacco. I gradually convinced him not to smoke in the house (see issue VI for tips on doing the same), but even smelling it on his jacket can peeve me. I suppose there is his slothfulness, as well. Although I know he deserves reprieve, his indifference can drive me up the wall sometimes. As for his habits... Not matching his cufflinks before tossing them in a drawer for me to rearrange later, draping his jacket over a chair when it's soaking wet, and tapping his pen when he's thinking are among them. One has to learn to live with them, however, and after a while they become background noise. I am sure there are things about me that put him on the edge of sanity.

**I cannot think of any at the moment besides having to straighten every little thing, adhering to social etiquette when we are the only ones present, letting the cat in the bed when it wants to get up, and lacing your corset too tightly and then half swooning rather than adjust it. - M.**

**elsewhere in London:**

The first time Watson had seen Mrs. Holmes she had been standing at the aisle in a white dress looking extremely lost. At the present, she was wearing a green dress but she still had that look of skittish unfamiliarity on her face. He cleared his throat, knowing he had to approach this from a strictly medical standpoint if he was going to get through it with dignity. "Is there any family history of sterility?"

Ann Marie shook her head, albeit slowly, thinking back. "No... Noble families are never that big to begin, though, with because they can afford... Well, things that prevent it." She was blushing quiet furiously even though she had been the one to ask the doctor. She couldn't bring herself to ask her own doctor; it was far too personal. Besides, she knew Watson would tell the truth. She wasn't quite sure the man could tell a lie to a woman.

"Have you ever had mumps? Scarlet fever? Did you used to ride horseback?"

"No... A horse tossed my brother once and that was enough to make me uneasy of them."

"Any sharp pains in the area aside from during your..." There was a pause as he drew in a breath. "Menstrual cycle?" _There, that wasn't so bad..._

Another shake of the head. "Even during then, it's dull pain."

"Normal. And you're regular?"

"I started late, but since then it's like clockwork."

"How late?"

"Fourteen. I remember how frantic my mother was, she told me to pretend like I'd had it so men wouldn't know if there was something wrong."

Watson could not help but give a small smile even if it was at her discomfort. "I think your husband may be right, Mrs. Holmes. I think you merely need a little time for things to sort themselves out. Do not think of it as a curse; it's not healthy to bear before your body is ready."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "When is he not right? You're sure...?"

"Not a hundred percent, but the simplest answer is usually the correct one." Watson smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was an action that might have been inappropriate with another woman but she was nearly as much of a sister-in-law to him as to Holmes. "You have lots of time, Mrs. Holmes. You're still very young."

"I'm eighteen now," murmured the girl, as if being eighteen automatically granted her access to all the knowledge of the world. Perhaps she thought it would. "I... I do have a rather... delicate question. It's probably silly, so promise you won't laugh?"

"Cross my heart, Mrs. Holmes."

She bit her lip nonetheless. "I was never excellent at physics, not like Emily or even Catherine was, but I do know how gravity works and I was just wondering if... Well, if this whole thing isn't just..."

Watson tried desperately to duck his head to hide his smile and restrained his laughter through sheer will.

Ann Marie scowled, hands on her hip like an indignant child. "You _promised_!"

"I'm sorry, I truly am. I'm not laughing! Position has nothing to do with it, you have my firm promise on that matter."

"There, was that so hard?" she sniffed as she wrapped her shawl around her. Men could be so immature sometimes...


	11. X

_At family gatherings, I'm always the one that ends up looking after my young cousin. He is six years old and a terrible brat. He always gets into some kind of mischief that I end up being blamed for. I try to discipline him, yet it never works. How do I keep him under control? _

_- E.A._

While I'd suggest losing him once so that you are not asked to do it again, if children can find a way to permanently damage themselves they usually will. Therefore I'd recommend simply bribery. It's underhanded but it's effective. A good friend of mine has a herd of younger siblings that I've spent several holidays trying to keep track of and promises of candy or a few pounds will keep most children as good as gold. Open-ended threats work quite well, too. A child's mind will conjure up a far worse punishment than an adult ever can.

_I honestly hope that this isn't too personal of a question... I was married three months ago to a man of my father's choosing. He is an excellent provider and a sweet man, but he has a bit of a jealous streak. I have been very close to my best friend's brother since we were little children and he often comes over to visit. These meetings are entirely innocent and I seen him almost as a brother, but my husband will not be convinced that we are not involved romantically. He has not forbidden the brother from coming into the house but he makes it quite clear he dislikes it and I hate to upset him. Do you have any suggestions how I can keep seeing my dear friend but soothe my husband?_

_- T.E._

The etiquette of dealing with male friends is an extremely touchy one. I think all men have a jealous streak no matter how hard they try to hide it. While Mycroft rarely says so much as a word, I do notice that he walks a little faster with me past rugby fields and at events he insists on a dance with me although he dislikes it if someone's had me for one too many songs. I suggest a compromise; continue having your male friend over but invite his sister as well, or another one of your friends. This should convince your husband that your relationship is purely platonic.

**I firmly deny my intentions in the abovementioned incidents. - M.**

_My... friends, who have read this story... about the blanket... are now, erm... proceeding to spread rumours about Sherlock... And the blanket. I am eternally sorry for bringing this up, but, I must ask; what color is the blanket? And what pattern?_

_And, due to the rising popularity of Sherlock, has Sherlock ever been assaulted by rabid fan girls? What about Watson? Any injuries? _

-M.J. 

It was blue, and it had no pattern other than the hemming done in white thread. Apparently it was a gift from an aunt. I don't quite see the shame in having a comfort item as a child, however. I dragged around a stuffed rabbit everywhere I went for the first five years of my life until my mother told me that if I brought it to school I'd never be married.

No reports of actual attacks yet, but I can't count the number of times Sherlock complains women come to him with made-up cases merely to get his attention. Watson seems far less annoyed with these instances...

_Dear Mrs. Holmes, I must confess that I do not normally read or correspond with such publications as "The Constant Companion," although, in this instance, I would like to seek your advice. I have applied for a position as an instructor at a small girls' school near London, and have no doubt that I am qualified for the position. However, it is becoming increasingly aware to me that the headmistress of the institution and I have precious little in common. How do you deal with such situations in which you must charm and interact with individuals with such different views and outlooks than yourself? I'm sure that, as the wife of Mr. Mycroft Holmes, you are often required to play hostess to a variety of interesting and unusual personages. Regards,_

_- B.M._

This is a problem I, and many other people, often have. It seems to be fate that the people who become important in your life have nothing in common with you. All Mycroft's crowd are usually scientists of some kind or in the maths, and I was unabashedly horrible at both. There are also the people you meet whom you cannot stand but must pretend to like. If you find yourself in conversation with someone of the first type, there are three methods I use. The first is merely to pretend you know what you are talking about. This can impress them but will backfire if they ask you too many questions. The second, and easiest, is to nod and make small, ambiguous comments where it seems appropriate. This can cause problems in the long run, however. My best advice is to admit you know little about the subject of discussion and ask them to explain it further. This gives them an ego boost (who does not like to feel smarter than the person you are talking to?), fills an unlimited amount of time if the subject is broad, and sets the ground for future interactions. If they have views opposing yours, all I can say is to let anything they say roll off of you, smile, and say something along the lines of "Well, that's one way of looking at it" if they try to rope you into a debate. My mother always said that when it comes to important matters in your life, those who matter don't mind your views and those who do mind them hardly matter.

_Every once in a while at a fancy dinner I will see a utensil on the innermost setting aside from the knife on the right hand side. It is about the size of a dessert spoon but its "bowl" is broad and shallow and one side has a small triangular piece missing. I've never seen it in my etiquette books so I have never used it. Any idea what this is?_

_- E.D._

This utensil is called a sauce spoon. It is used for the excess sauce in your bowl after a pasta dish (I do not think I need to tell anyone that mopping this up with your roll is not at all proper). It is a fairly new addition to the place setting from France and is only in the most up-to-date books.

_I recently turned fifteen and began wearing a corset full-time. I know that they are not built to be comfortable, but exactly how tight is too tight? _

_- D.B._

**Believe me, I think you are asking the wrong girl. - M.**

Men simply do not understand the entire concept of the corset. They want a woman with a tiny waist but then chaste us for making it so. A simple fact of life is that most beauty takes pain and while beauty is not everything, it is nice. While a corset should fit snugly, it should only restrict breathing a small amount. Any woman with serious respiratory problems should never tight-lace. The ribs should not ache, and if you have dark bruises or welts when you remove the corset then it was laced too tightly. The general rule of thumb is to pull it to very slight discomfort and then give it one more tug.

_You have been asked about Inspector Lestrade, but what do you think of the other detectives Sherlock Holmes works with, like Gregson or Macdonald? _

- K.V. 

I must admit that when I most often see the detectives of Scotland Yard, they're usually in a hurry and not fit for proper conversation. They usually come around looking for Sherlock or knowledge of his whereabouts, or in a very urgent case Mycroft. I have not really been properly introduced to many of them. Mr. Gregson I have at least had the opportunity to talk to at some length a few weeks ago. He is a very pleasant man if not a bit overzealous in his work (not always a bad thing).

_I spotted you and your husband at the premiere of "H.M.S. Pinafore" in one of the prime boxes. Do you enjoy the theatre, or was this an indulgence of Mr. Holmes's?_

_- A.T._

Quite the opposite, actually. Unlike his brother, Mycroft has no great fondness for the arts. I enjoy comedy and operas, however, and as the tickets were a gift I thought it terribly rude to not make use of them. It was also a bit of a thrill to go to the theatre as an event rather than going to a matinee discreetly.

**elsewhere in London:**

"Watson," Holmes commented, his lanky frame bent into his armchair, a book held lazily by the corners in his fingers. "I thought your last appointment was at half past five."

"I had a last-minute caller," shrugged the doctor as he stripped himself of his hat and coat, letting his bag rest on the mat by the door. "Just a usual patient, a known hypochondriac."

A dark eyebrow arched in scepticism. "You did not even try to appease them by looking him over?"

"I looked him over plenty, Holmes, but did not take too much time in it. I'd seen him three days ago in the peak of health and he's always worrying anyway."

The detective sat up a little straighter. "You're lying to me, Watson. Your stethoscope is known to need its oil, especially in this weather, and there's no fresh traces of it on your hands. Secondly, your last patient most certainly was not male. You have the light scent of perfume on you. I suggest you tell the truth."

Watson strode over to his own chair, all but falling into it, knowing he should have took the time to come up with a better story. His mood now ruined, he rather moodily countered "You're the detective, you tell me the truth."

"It's something that's troubling you because you resent my prying. Personal matters are also suggested by the perfume... It's on you quite well so you were close to your female patient yet not close enough to make me suspect a liaison. You examined her with words only, no excess fabric traces on your sleeves. Oh, but one green strand on your cuff there, you felt comfortable enough to touch her." Holmes rose and in three strides was beside him, plucking up the tiny strand. "My, Watson, good silk. Your mystery woman is well-off, so why on earth would she not summon you to her own house? There is no out of place soil on your shoes and you are not so late as to warrant a house call. Was her problem of a private matter?"

"Yes," the doctor finally said, jumping up and threading away from Holmes. His presence was intimidating when he was the one being interrogated. "And therefore I think you should leave well enough alone."

"It is a _very_ personal matter, then! I wish I could place that perfume to one person but it is a popular kind among the young girls so I only have an age. Oh..." he finally grinned, a quick movement gathering one more clue from the doctor's cuff and holding up the curled blonde strand. "Oh, doctor, surely you have not been conspiring with my sister dear."

Watson's eyes flashed with rare anger. "Do you know how many blonde girls there are in the city?"

"No, but I know how many young blondes you know well enough to see after hours and it numbers one. Now what could be troubling her...? I'd suspect something caught from an affair if I thought she was capable of one. Not pregnancy, that would not be an occasion for shame. Oh, but I've triggered something with the mention of pregnancy. She's _not_ pregnant, however, but... She thinks it will not happen. That would indeed upset her, wouldn't it?"

He could see the grin spreading over his friend's face both in triumph and anticipation of just how he would spread this information in front of the girl. He could not stand it. "Holmes, I have been your friend and your chronicler for a great many years and I usually am content to believe your word above anyone else's. At the moment, however, I will say this; Ann Marie is genuinely upset over this, more upset than she should be, and it is bothering her greatly. If you rub her nose in this, I cannot fathom the damage you will do to her spirit and I will not allow you to injure a lady so greatly. If you ever bring up the matter to her, Holmes, I will walk out that door and I will only be coming back to collect my things!"

Holmes blinked, slightly stunned. He had never heard such a speech from the doctor. A slight scowl soon replaced his look of surprise. "And since when have you been a defender of this girl, Watson?"

"Since she needed one from you. Don't do this, Holmes. I cannot stop you from teasing her like a small child with his brother's lady friend, but she has grown used to that. This is different. She can't shrug off everything. You are not a cruel man, do not be cruel to her."

The lanky man discarded the hair and the strand of silk and went back to his own chair, silently filling his pipe and lightening it. Several minutes passed before he spoke. "I... feel that I should not say anything just yet. It has not been long enough to suspect she is infertile."

Watson gave a long sigh. "Thank you, Holmes."

Silence dominated the flat once more.


	12. XI

**AN: I really wrestled with "elsewhere" this week, and even wrote an alternative one in case I backed out at the last minute. I have the characters of Reg Janii and Emily Francis more developed that one would think, and I wanted to highlight Emily in the light that I originally conceived her. I hope you enjoy. **

_Is there a right way on how to put a greeting card into an envelope? Should the fold be facing up or down?_

_- B.B._

The fold of the card should be at the bottom of the envelope for two reasons; if there is something in the card it will not fall out when removed and if a letter-opener is used on the envelope it is less likely to damage it. The front should be at the back of the envelope so it is the first thing seen when removed.

_When someone at a formal dinner begins speaking on a topic that may be controversial or offensive, is it polite to try to change the subject or is it preferable to let the speaker continue until he (or she) runs out of things to say? _

- K.V. 

It depends on the speaker. If it is someone who is a guest in your house, then it is preferable to wait for a pause and change the subject tactfully. If you are truly offended by this subject and the person does not hold great power over you, you may wish to make them feel as awkward as possible in doing so ("Oh, my... Well, I suppose some people merely haven't had the experience to think otherwise. Now, has anyone seen the new exhibit at Tussard's?"). It will let them know that the topic is closed for the rest of the night. If you are their guest, it is usually best to just keep quiet and make it obvious that you are discomforted with it. If they do not take the hints, merely offer no input. It can be hard not to speak up, but there are times when silence is best.

_When you're at a restaurant, after you have made your selection from the menu, what should you do with it? Do you place it closed directly in front of you, or place it hanging halfway off the table?_

_- C.B._

The problem with placing it hanging over the table is that a passing waiter is likely to knock it off. Once you are done with the menu, you should fold it and place it in the corner across from you as a sign that you are ready to order. If you are with a group of people they should be stacked together.

_Is Mr. Holmes allergic to anything? _

_And did he have a childhood pet? _

_- C.C._

Sherlock is allergic to strawberries and large doses of sulphur. Mycroft is allergic to vanilla (and I wished he'd told me this rather than letting me find it out the hard way).

**That makes two of us. - M.**

They never had pets. Apparently their father was deathly allergic to animal dander. Although Sherlock kept a fish, I'm to understand it was short-lived. I hope this is because of the natural mortality of the animals and not aggressive action on Sherlock's part.

_My marriage was arranged to a rather prominent banker and while at the time I was happy, three months later I still have not been able to strike a decent conversation with him! We have so little in common; all he ever seems to talk about is his garden. Normal men have clubs, but when he comes home he goes straight to the large garden in the backyard and sometimes stays out there through dinner. It's starting to drive me around the bend that I have so little interaction with my husband. Can you tell me how to get him out of the dirt and into the sitting room?_

_- L.L._

Might I make a suggestion? Perhaps you should stop trying to get him into the sitting room and go out into the garden yourself. It sounds as if it's more likely to happen. Sit nearby as he works (or if you are not expecting company, put on an older dress and help him), and ask questions about what he's doing. You say he's always talking about his plants, so listen. Botany is a broad subject, surely there is something in there to interest the both of you. By opening yourself to his interests, you are bound to make him more open to the things you enjoy as well.

**I plan to clip this out and save it next time you roll your eyes at me for trying to teach you a little about deduction. Don't think I cannot tell when you are tuning me out. - M.**

_My daughter-in-law seems to have absolutely no common sense when it comes to antiques. We recently gave their household a beautiful Persian area rug for her and my son's anniversary and were complimented highly on it and yet next time we visited, we saw a new rug of sub-par quality and were told by her that she "didn't quite like" the one we had given them (although I made sure it was perfectly complimented to their sitting room) and that she had it in storage. Is there any possible way I can get her to realize that quality truly matters in a good?_

_- F.R._

There is a slight chance that your daughter-in-law has a reason for not wanting to use a good rug. Do they have new children or pets? She may be worried it will get ruined and would rather have a cheaper one destroyed. If you truly feel that she has no taste in the matter, perhaps you should teach her some. Invite her out with you, take her shopping under the guise of purchasing for your own home, and casually explain a few things to her. It could be the start of a great friendship.

_I am a newlywed and just starting to write thank-you notes to those who attended our wedding. I was very careful in recording the wedding gifts, but there is a gift that had no name on it and I cannot find any trace of who gave it to us." We have no gifts on record for three of my wedding guests. I want to send them a thank-you note, but I do not know who to thank for the gift. Should I ask these three wedding guests whether they gave us this present? If so, how is the best way to ask without offending anyone (I'm afraid it will seem as though we're hinting that we're expecting a gift from the ones who didn't give us anything)? _

_- D.B._

I suggest that you write a short note to each friend, in which you thank him or her for coming to the wedding (and explain how much his or her presence meant to you, and so on). Make no mention of gifts whatsoever. The one who gave the present to you, upon seeing no mention of it, may contact you to ask if it got to you (in this case, assure them it did and apologize for losing track of the name). If not, they were thanked all the same for it.

_Mrs. Holmes, I recently graduated from nursing school and am now working at a hospital. I enjoy my job very much, but all of a sudden it seems my friends want free advice whenever I am with them about every illness, ailment and pain they have ever had in their life. Not only do I not want my profession to change any relationships, I am far from being a doctor and cannot answer all the questions (when I say this, it always sounds as if I am brushing them off). Is there a way to politely tell them that there is a wall between my social life and my work?_

_- N.D._

Male or female, many professionals seem to be questions about things, especially if it would cost a great deal to see them in their office. As most of the things you imply they ask sound minor and trivial, however, I would recommend replying with something along the lines of "Oh, how unfortunate. If it's still bothering you in a few days, you should book an appointment." It is not a brush-off of their troubles, merely the advice that it is not serious. If it is a real problem, they will bite the bullet and see their doctor. Either way, they will stop bothering you.

**elsewhere in London:**

"I feel bad bothering him at home," murmured Emily Francis, knocking on the door of the Holmes house. "I know he's going to some ball tonight, but if we leave this..."

"Calm down, Francis, he never minds," Dante sighed with an overly dramatic roll of his eyes. "Not when it's important."

"I know, but Janii should have remembered to..." The door opened. Her words stopped. Her breath stopped. She was fairly sure that her heart stopped.

Standing in the doorway was an angel in a golden ball gown. Her golden ringlets were almost loose, held half-heartedly by an ivory comb. The dress dipped just so in the neck that half her pale shoulders were exposed. For a split second she was still, lips slightly parted, lightly painted eyelids just lifting.

"Oh, Emily!" exclaimed Ann Marie with a welcoming smile. "Please, tell me I don't look like a harlot in this. I feel like one."

A thick blush began to appear across the girl's face, and her mouth moved up and down several times but no sound emerged.

"You look wonderful, Madame Holmes," butted in the Frenchman with a faked smile she did not notice, all but pushing his co-worker aside. "Is your husband in? We hate to intrude, but could he sign these? It's just that we need this warrant tonight..."

"He's still dressing, but I'll bring them to him and be right back," the girl smiled, taking the papers and making her way up the ways with the grace of a dancer within a music box.

Emily leaned her head against the side of the doorframe, closing her eyes. "Oh, Christ, my system did not need that. I think I'm going to hyperventilate. Who the hell answers the door looking like that?"

"If you're going to die, please fall that way. I have a bad back. And Madame Holmes does, apparently. Emphasis on _Madame_. As in our employer's _wife_."

She had thought that those feelings of breathlessness around her would cease once puberty settled. Her plan had been to avoid her after graduation; that did not go as planned. "I _know_, Dante. In my defence, I was this bad before they were married. Worse, actually. Dear god, after about five years of combing for any signs of... _anything_, you'd think that little hormone indicator in my brain would mark her as off limits." She heard movement from within and quickly took off her glasses, pretending to polish them with her glove.

"Here you go. I swear I almost had to hold him back from coming down here, he's digging for any chance to get out of this... Just so you know, the ball's a bit out of the way so we'll be at a hotel for the night but back this morning if you need to contact us. I believe Dr. Janii has the number of the hotel?"

"He does, Madame. Give your husband our best." Both employees turned, heading back towards Whitehall on foot.

Emily slipped her glasses back on, taking deep breaths and cursing both her asthma and the condition that Oscar Wilde made look fun from a distance. There were times when she wished she had neither, but she knew neither could ever be cured or outgrown. "I'm over her, Dante, I really am. I know that she's... God, Dante, she's happy with him, as impossible as that sounds. I don't care if they're in love, he treats her so well. And I'd never be good enough for her in a thousand years but...It hurts you in a very... _primitive_ way when you want something so badly and knowing you can't have it makes you want it more."

Dante shook a cigarette out from his pocket, lighting his match with his thumbnail and touching it to the end of the taper. "I have a feeling I know what you speak of."

She wrinkled her nose as the smoke began to wisp out. "Do you have to smoke that here?"

"_Oui_. I am French, Francis. We need tobacco or we perish."

"In that case, I'll head home before I really do take an attack and let you and Janii play bureaucratic cowboys tonight. You don't need a physicist in an interrogation." She broke away from him and headed for her own flat without so much as a goodbye.

When Dante reached Whitehall, he went up to the top office, sat down, and hammered his head quite solidly into his desk, cigarette still dangling though it was burning dangerously close to his lips.

Janii raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell her?"

Silence.

"Look, Dante, I _told _you she wouldn't be interested. It's not personal, it's just the way some people are. I thought the French understood that better than us. You've defended others, you're always going on and on about women's rights."

"I didn't tell her, it would only make things awkward. And I know. I know... It's just different when it gets into your own life."

The man rested a rare hand of friendship on his shoulder. Very briefly. "Would it make you feel better to rough up an English conspirator? His file says he's hit a lot of women. Mr. Holmes's signature gives us permission to do all short of kill him.

The cigarette was beginning to hurt. He removed what was left, stamping it into the ashtray with a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, that could help."

They both rose and left to play bureaucratic cowboys.


	13. XII

AN: To repeat the last chapter, it was a debate between my tendency to diversify when it came to the Whitehallians and the knowledge that someone was bound to not share the viewpoint. As a result, I would like to apologise for anyone who was offended by my usage of a person of Indian descent, a person of French birth, or a person with nearsightedness. Although a person cannot control their race, birthplace, or visual prowess, many people are opposed to such people and their lifestyles and they are entitled to their views just as I am entitled to my belief that glasses are rather spiffy.

I have a situation that has been driving me crazy for quite a while. People always shorten my name into a nickname without invitation, which I take great displeasure at. I much prefer to go by my full name, and yet many insist on making it into a diminutive. Is there any polite way to let them know I would rather be addressed by my actual name?

- J.V.

As someone with a double name, I know where you are coming from. Everyone calls me "Ann Marie" save for my husband, and I do not know why people feel the need to create nicknames when the other person does not offer one. It is not impolite to gently correct someone when they use the diminutive if you have just met them ("Actually, my full name is... And yours is?"). If it is someone who has been calling you by a nickname for a long time, merely tell them that you are going by your full name now as a display of maturity.

I think most of your readers have seen you in Dr. Watson's stories in "The Strand", but are his writings very close to your real person or are they more of a character than you?

- A.R.

Dr. Watson's stories, while excellent, are a bit romanticised. Although the general whole of the story is usually true (besides the names and places changed for privacy reasons), certain details are often added or omitted to help the flow of the story or the image of the character in question. I can assure you, my suggestion in "The Case of the Unknown Cargo" was not nearly as articulate as Dr. Watson wrote it out as, and Sherlock's acknowledgement of my correct answer was, shall we say, less graceful.

Censorship is not always a bad thing. - M.

Recently, I was to host a party but the day of the evening it was to take place, I became quite ill with the flu (my husband was away on business) and hastily made sure that notices were sent out to all my guests that there was to be a reschedule. I am wondering now if I did the right thing or if it was terribly rude.

- M.C.

There is nothing rude about becoming ill; it happens to all of us at one time or another. If you need reaffirmation, do you think your guests would rather have caught sick from you than postpone the event to a later date?

My husband is not a particularly vain man, but he is getting to the age where his hair is starting to thin a bit and he seems to be obsessed over it. He has considered shaving it to hide his aging (which I am against; he'll look like some dock worker!). Do I really "not understand", or is he merely being... male?

- R.A.

It is odd than when either gender decides they do not like a certain behaviour, they pin it on the other sex. Women are mostly vainer than men until they hit middle age. Assure your husband that he is just as appealing to you now (or, if you want to lay it on thick, say it makes him look much more mature and stately). It's a natural part of life that cannot be controlled, and therefore it is nothing to lose ones hair over. No pun intended, I assure you.

This, of course, should be taken as coming from a person who is female and many, may years away from old age. - M.

My aunt is not a woman I particularly favour but as she is a relative I have learned to put up with her over the years. She has announced for her latest visit, however, she will be accompanied by her new lapdog. To be honest, I fear for our rugs among other things. I simply do not want a small, likely untrained, dog running around the house. My aunt can well afford a hotel when she comes here. Is there a polite way to decline to host her and her pooch?

- N.D.

My best suggestion is a little white lie; claim that you, your husband, your child, or a member of your staff is deathly allergic to dog hair. Offer to pay her hotel or kennel fee if that is what it takes. Though a hostess must oblige to most requests, it is in the worst form to assume your precious pet will be welcome wherever you go and expect your hosts to make arrangements for it.

This is an issue that has been festering in my family for years. My husband and I adopted an infant almost two years ago who happened to be of Oriental descent. As times are changing rather quickly and it was obvious that this child needed a home very badly, we had no objections to the boy's race. My sister, on the other hand, claims we're taking bad blood into the family. Would it be best to try and change her mind, or should I simply keep her out of my child's life?

- C.A.

I do not think it would be healthy for a young boy to be exposed to an aunt who despises it. You know your sister far better than I; do you honestly think she can be changed? Maybe a logical discussion with her will bring her around. On the other hand, it has been two years and if she is not bending now than she may never do so. If you are happy with your family and she is not, it may quite frankly be her problem.

Which do you prefer, cats or dogs? What about the Holmes brothers and Dr. Watson?

- P.R.

I love most animals and while I do not favour one over the other particularly, cats suit the lifestyle I currently have. Dogs, even small ones, cannot be left alone in the house for long spans of time without disaster occurring and cats are slightly less messy. I know Watson has a strong shine towards dogs (he kept a bulldog until he moved into the flat and it hated confinement). While Sherlock would love the practicality of a dog, I'm sure, I don't think his sporadic lifestyle would accommodate walk times. Mycroft does not seem to be overly fond of animals in general.

Dogs dig up yards. Cats leave hairballs. Both have fleas. - M.

Many women complain that marrying takes away their independence... Mine has done just the opposite. I grew up with a very controlling mother but when I married, my wonderful husband helped me spread my wings a bit and become stronger and more confident in myself. We are preparing to go visit my mother (an unavoidable event, unfortunately) and I am afraid she will try to undo all the things he has helped me to become. How on earth can I tell the woman who raised me that I prefer this life to hers?

- L.B.

First of all, congratulations for finding true comfort in your life. While humility and obedience are virtues, there is a line between being humble and being a mouse. Use your new courage to stand up to your mother. Be quiet and graceful about it or you'll only be proving to her that you will fall apart under real pressure. It sounds as if your husband will be there as well, so use him as a support if needed. Refuse to back down, for if you lose your will now you may never regain it.

_We used to be on quite good terms with our next-door neighbours until they decided to get a cat. They claim it is a cat, anyway, but it may very well be a furry little demon. The thing yowls most of the night loud enough to be heard in our house. We have asked the neighbours to perhaps train it or put it out for the night, but they adamantly refuse. I am quite frankly on the verge of losing my mind. Any advice?_

_- D.C._

Perhaps leaving a complaint with officers of the law is in order, although you can decline to leave your name if you do not want bad blood between the two of you. Disturbance of the peace will hardly land them in jail, and a fine will assure they will at least try to keep their cat silent in the night.

elsewhere in London:

Of things he enjoyed, being roused at three in the morning by one of his employees ranked very, very low on Mycroft Holmes's list. Dante had been soaking wet from fast-fleeting rain, black hair plastered to his face and probably blocking most of his sight, barely able to get out what had happened through chattering teeth and emotion. Mycroft was grateful he was fluent in French. He had been quick in dressing and had left Ann, bleary-eyed and confused, questioning him as to what was going on.

"Lower arm broken in three places, a bit of internal bleeding, one rib broken and three fractured, broken collar bone, broken wrist... All on the same side, she was obviously cornered. She's stable, sir, and she'll recover eventually. The deep cuts weren't on her face, she'll likely not show any scars... She still won't speak, sir. Might have been her family..."

He gave a brief nod to the night-duty doctor, the term "show any scars" not failing to imply gravity to him. He knew that most scars could not be seen and that something like this was prone to leaving them. He sent Dante off, he was no good to her trembling like that, and entered the white and sterile room.

Emily Francis was a very small woman, barely topping five feet, and yet she never seemed half so delicate as Ann Marie. Though often skittish, her mind was grounded and stronger than most and whenever she was in her element her physical form was the least of what anyone saw. At the moment, however, she looked entirely and utterly lost. Her brown hair, usually in tight, neat braids, hung limply and her skin was pallid. Green eyes normally masked with thick lenses were red-rimmed and empty. Bruises adorned her like makeup and bandages were her accessories. Her left arm was encased in plaster as if a sculpture. She did not acknowledge her employer's entrance.

"It was not your family," he spoke after determine she was not sedated, merely stubborn. "You would turn them over in a moment. A lover's family?"

"Not a lover." Her voice was hoarse, a crude whisper. "Even sweetheart is a strong term. An... interest. She broke to their will, they decided to repay me for corrupting their child. I will not name them. You know as well as I this case would never be prosecuted without labelling me as a criminal."

Mycroft sighed, taking his time in settling himself in the uncomfortable wooden chair at her bedside. He did not need to confirm what they both knew. Instead he gave a small nod to the tiny gold medallion around her neck. "You wear that, but you are not a practising Catholic anymore. Or at least you do not attend Mass."

The art of deduction usually fascinated her, but at the moment it hurt to breathe. "I don't quite know what I am anymore. I want to believe but they don't want me. Saint Anthony, the patron saint of the oppressed and things that are misplaced. As if there is a difference between the two."

"There is, Miss Francis. The oppressed are not usually misplaced, they only feel as such. I am afraid I cannot offer counsel over spiritual matters. I do not believe any mortal is qualified to do so, truth be told."

There was silence between them for several minutes, the only sound the rasping of the girl's breath. When this was broken, it was her who spoke.

"I am told that what I am is evil and yet I cannot believe it, but I hear it so much and so many people think it that I am starting to think it may be easier to try and convince myself they are right than the other way around."

"I cannot control your mind, I will not attempt to, but many people once believed that the Earth is flat and Jews eat children on the High Holy Days."

She laughed. It sent spasms of pain shooting through her entire body. She began to cough, her hands flying to her mouth. When the coughing stopped she drew them back. There was blood on them. She blinked when Mycroft dropped a handkerchief in her hands and silently wiped the red from her skin. "Thank you, sir."

He gave a nod, stiff but not entirely formal. "Will you recover?"

"Bones mend with time."

"You know very well that there is more to be broken in everyone than bones."

Her small fingers traced the edges of the cloth, eventually withdrawing from the even stitches she knew Ann Marie had put there. "Hearts break. Luckily they have strings to pull them back together." To her surprise, she heard her employer chuckle. "My mother always said that. The last words she ever spoke to me as not fit to repeat."

"I am glad to hear you plan to recover, Miss Francis. Minds like yours are so rare. Your attack will be claimed as a mugging if you have no objections. You need rest for the moment. I'll call the nurse in to bring a sedative."

Emily sighed but did not resist. "Will you stay?"

"If you want me to."

Her slight nod was enough. She should not have been so selfish, she was depriving a wife of a filled bed, but she was too alone in the world to forsake willing company.


	14. XIII

_I have heard rumours that there is a third Holmes brother, older than both your husband and Sherlock Holmes, who goes by the first name of Sherrinford; is there any truth to this rumour? _

- K.V. 

This is actually something I've been trying to get to the bottom of for a while. I think it finally came down to the fact that Mycroft claimed they had no cousins but Sherlock saying that there was a female cousin he despised for striking him. There is a Sherrinford Holmes, but he is cousin to them, not brother. Although he has stated before for the Holmes brothers not to mention him for the sake of his privacy, Mycroft has written him and I have his permission to mention him in print. Their family has an agreement to rotate the squireship of the family between branches, though now that both Mycroft and Sherlock opted out for any sons they might have, it is solely up to them. Mr. Sherrinford also has a sister by the name of Adelaide.

_If I am on the floor with my dancing partner, and someone asks to "cut in," taking my place, do I have to agree to allow him in or am I allowed to refuse? _

- G.R.. 

Under the strictest of etiquette, no. It is really only asked for courtesy's sake and it is incredibly rude to deny someone a dance. Asking to cut in in the first place, however, is also very rude when done by either gender. If the request is made by someone you would rather die than let put hands on you, reply with something along the lines of "Oh, after this I plan to rest a bit."

**And a note from the other end; consider if a dance is worth annoying whoever you are taking this person away from. - M.**

_I recently inherited a pair of large, diamond stud earrings from my grandmother, who is still alive but is expected to pass soon. I had a difficult time accepting them, but she insisted. Would it be terrible for me to have them reset in another metal or have them turned into a necklace that I would wear often instead of keeping them in a jewellery box the rest of my life? Is this selfish? _

_- D.I._

First of all, my sympathies to you and your family. Your grandmother gave you the jewellery to wear, not to shove at the bottom of a box and never look at again. Resetting bequeathed things is by no means disrespectful or selfish. I would, however, wait until your grandmother passes on before doing so, merely out of respect.

_There's not a kind way to put this; my mother is a horrible cook. She is the only woman I know who can burn the outside of a roast nearly black and leave the inside half cold. When I come for dinner, she insists on cooking herself, saying it's a treat for us. Should I tell her the truth, or just grin and bear it for the rare visit to her?_

_- P.D._

If these dinners are so rare, might I suggest offering to take your mother out to dinner? No doubt she'll appreciate the kind gesture and it also excuses you from having to eat what does not at all sound like an appetizing meal. Though lying is generally considered wrong, I wouldn't tell her unless you want to stir up unnecessary trouble.

_If you had to chose a profession outside the home, what would be your top pick? A writer, perhaps?_

_- S.R._

I don't think I could be a writer; answering questions is much easier than making up stories off the top of your head. Dr. Watson says I have all the makings of a good nurse, but I don't know if I could see people in pain day in and day out, and although I enjoy sewing it might be different if it was a job rather than a hobby. I suppose I'd enjoy being a florist, I've always loved arranging flowers, and being a hostess for a tea room would more definitely suit me. I also think photography would be interesting if not for all the chemicals involved. Seeing some of Sherlock's experiences first hand has given me a bit of a phobia of them.

_It is mentioned in 'the Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton that your brother-in-law once romanced a housemaid for the sole purpose of burgling a house. What happened to her in the end, and what are your feelings on your brother-in-law's actions? _

_Also, I am currently planning a christening for my first child. On the guest list are my relatives and my husband's relatives (obviously). However, there is one distant branch of my family that has had, shall we say, disagreements with a distant branch of my husband's family. How should I deal with them? Obviously I cannot keep them apart forever; they are bound to bump into each other at the christening. _

_-R. S. _

The maid was, as anyone would be, deeply embarrassed after the whole thing was said and done, which was why Watson never printed her name out of respect to her privacy. She did nothing so dramatic as go mad or anything of the like, but I imagine a deception like that would still smart a person. Personally, I cannot condone toying with an innocent person's feelings like that even if it is for the "greater good". There must have been another way to investigate that matter, and purposely breaking a poor woman's (or man's) heart should not be considered any light matter.

Congratulations on the birth of your child, of course. This does seem to be a bit of an explosive situation, but can it be assumed that they can all behave civilly with one another for a few hours like adults? If you and your husband think otherwise, the only solution may to have a more private christening for the more immediate family and then simply invite those branches not attending the christening to visit on different occasions from one another.

_I recently loaned a friend a bracelet of mine that had no sentimental value but was a bit costly. When she returned it to me, it was filled with dents and scratches. She promised at the time to have it either repaired or replaced, but she has yet to follow through on it. I feel so awkward bringing it up; she may be a bit scatter-brained but I do not want to lose her friendship. Is there a tasteful way to demand retribution?_

_- D.C._

Demand may be a bit of a tasteless word, to begin with. Being cross to her is not only rude, it is not likely to solve the problem of the bracelet. Try to bring it up in conversation casually but pointedly ("Oh, I know the bracelet that would go perfectly with these earrings! But oh, I just remembered..."). Your friend may have merely forgotten about her promise rather than trying to get out of it. In the future, I think I would prepare a list of excuses as to why you cannot loan out your jewellery.

**elsewhere in London:**

It was not a hugely dramatic moment, not like in a novel or an opera. Although Mycroft had left the mansion in a bit of a blow-out, it was not as if they had not talked things out since then and there was no bad blood between them. It was not a surprise, as the maid informed him of their presence when he came in. It was merely an odd feeling to see his cousin in his sitting room.

Mrs. Heather Holmes was on the chaise lounge with Ann Marie, her infant cooing in the latter's arms. "Born with her foot twisted because of the womb but it straightened out, but our doctor wanted her to been seen by a specialist in London and I convinced Sherrinford to stop here on our way..." The plump woman looked up at the footsteps, giving a tentative smile. "Mycroft..."

His own wife gave a similar expression. "I invited them for dinner... Isn't she the sweetest thing, Mycroft? All this thick black hair and the green eyes."

"Oh, don't wish for dark hair," the older woman immediately said. "I don't think anyone ever expected blonde to get into this family."

Mycroft's eyes were not on the baby, however, but on the man sitting beside them in one of the armchairs. Tall and broad like him, but more with muscle from years of sport than from luxury. His hair was turning grey much quicker than his own, but at least his was staying in thick. He held the same palatine expression, although this man had an official title behind it. "Sherrinford."

"Mycroft," he replied, rising from the chair with ease. "It's been a while. Six years?"

"Five," corrected Mycroft with a soft smirk. "I had business in Oxfordshire and I stopped in to see your latest then. Forgive me if I was a little busy to do the same for... Philesia, isn't it? I got the announcement."

"Correct as always, cousin." The term of familiarity still had the heavy hand of formal address.

"Why don't you two go examine the study?" suggested Ann Marie, enthralled with the infant's every movement. "I know you'll only roll your eyes at us."

"She's right. I can barely stand one of you. Two in the same room will poison the air."

With a slight bow of his head, Mycroft turned on his heel, leading his cousin, elder by one year only, into his study. He shut the door behind him, going to the liquor cabinet for the good scotch. There was silence as he poured, and only spoke when he handed his cousin the tumbler. "Everything went fine with the specialist, then?"

"Mm-hmm," nodded Sherrinford, taking a tentative sip although he had always known him to has good taste. "Just a precaution, Sia's as right as rain. Eight months now, hard to believe. Apologies for missing your wedding, but it was a rough pregnancy and there was a bit of trouble with business afterwards that took me a while to straighten."

"None needed, we all have our own challenges. How are Astor and Lambert? And Adelaide?"

"The boys are fine, as much of a handful as ever. Adelaide still won't give up on how you should have married a country woman and you might as well stick a fragile little city girl up in the china cabinet because she's not good for anything else. If anything, it's made her like Heather a little more."

Mycroft could not help but chuckle. Some things did not change at all over the years. "And what is your opinion, cousin? You usually keep them to yourself but you always have one."

"She seems like a sweet girl, and something tells me that there's something stronger behind that pretty face of hers for her to be happy married to the British government. Heather adores her, thinks she's the cutest thing besides her own children she's ever seen. Speaking of which..."

The pause was all he needed to sigh and take a swig of his own drink. "To make a boring story short, she wants them desperately and has no patience whatsoever. Neither of us are adverse to taking in orphans, but it's too soon to tell anything and she's bent on the idea of giving me a blood heir."

"Oh, Mycroft, street waifs? What would my father say? 'Reason they're orphans, you know! Children of criminals, killers... Jews!' God, I wish he was alive just to see him get going."

"Now I see where Sherlock picked up his little annoying methods..."

"How's he doing, anyway? I read his cases, but they're hardly a letter. And have you heard from Violet at all lately?"

"Sherlock's insufferable and redeploying, as ever." Another pause, another drink, and a nervous finger run around the outside of the fine glass, making the crystal hum. "And her... Sherlock's exchanged a few letters, but I can never think of what to say, and she never contacted me after the wedding..."

"Oh, buck up, Mycroft. She was like this when you were children, now she's just doing it from god-knows-where instead of down the hall. I always thought you'd make a top-notch father, so best of luck, one way or the other. Even if you have your own, you should take in a couple Oriental babes all the same. I want to see the look on Adelaide's face when she sees them."

"I'll have to keep Sherlock clear of you while you're here. The two of you are liable to kill each other now that it's a reasonably fair fight."

_**AN: In response to a shortage of questions, usually resulting in me hunting through the "Dear Abby" achieves, I have devised something that will benefit everyone. Everyone who leaves a question, either through a PM (preferred) or in a signed review, will be PMed a little extra story. Sometimes it will be a discarded "elsewhere" segment or a continuation of one, sometimes a scrapped chapter of "The Girl", or maybe a little snippet from an AU. It will change weekly. This week's contains exactly what the two Mrs. Holmeses were chatting about after their husbands left the room.** _


	15. XIV

My youngest sister has begun taking her meals in her room and I fear she has not eaten a single bite. I do not mean that she has not been eating at all but that she is not eating any proper food. The gardener has reported food in the bushes under her window and the maid has discovered sweet wrappers and jars of candies hidden in various places in her room. I have ordered them not to inform my parents as I wish not to distress them. What should I do?

- S.I.

I think the first thing to do would be to talk it over with your sister and try to discern any reason at all for her actions from her. From the sounds of her secrecy, however, it does not sound as if she will open up so easily. My best advice is to simply tell your parents; at the end of the day, she is their daughter and they will likely know best. If this is entirely to your disliking, discreetly contact your sister's doctor by letter and ask him for his opinion. According to Dr. Watson, there are several medical and psychological causes for her behaviour that her doctor would be able to diagnose and treat.

Mrs. Holmes, I have a bit of embroidery that I have finished, but there are creases left in the fabric from the hoop. How would you suggest I smooth out the embroidery?

-V.J.

If the embroidery is on fairly hearty cloth, merely use an iron to get out the creases (ironing on the side that does not have the front of the stitching on it, of course). If it is more delicate, place a thin towel over the cloth before doing so.

My father, deny it though he does, is quite hard of hearing. We in the family makes jokes about it but it's gotten so bad that he says he has to shout to hear himself on the telephone. He promises he will talk to a specialist about it, but he's been promising to do so for at least two years now. Any advice?

- K.V.

If I were you, I'd become proactive and book him an appointment with an audiologist myself and make sure he goes to it. If he keeps putting it off when left to his own devices, a little prodding may be in order to make sure he maintains his health. Men in general can be stubborn about going to any sort of doctor and usually need someone to push them in the right direction.

I will admit that this is one of the faults of our gender, but at least we will soldier on with a touch of a fever rather than taking to bed just for the day off. - M.

This may sound petty but it is becoming a true issue between my maid and I which may just lead to her dismissal. When she washes knifes and puts them in the rack to dry, she leaves the points facing up. I have asked her several times to place them the other way before someone either falls onto them or accidentally grabs the blades. She insists this is more hygienic than placing them handle-down. Can you shed some light on this?

- W.S.

Your worries for safety are actually quite valid, especially if you have small children in the house. It is actually more hygienic to put the blades down, as then water is not soaking into the wood handles (which can be a risk for mould). Put your foot down a final time and inform her that if this is a habit she cannot change, you can no longer continue her employment. It may sound harsh, but it really does sound unsafe.

I work in an office setting with several other women. We, of course, talk a great deal and I've found that one or two of them don't get a long with some of the others. I am friends with all of my co workers and thus it's rather awkward when one will come up to me and start gossiping about another. How would you react to this? Is it better to stick up for one friend and make the other mad or to just say nothing and pretend I agree with everyone?

-V.H.

You would think that people would show common courtesy towards even people they dislike this day and age... I would suggest taking the middle ground between your two examples; merely tell both that you are opposed to gossip and you would appreciate not having to hear it. Hopefully, both will take the hint and leave you out of their mudslinging.

This is actually a question from a young gentleman. My sister reads your column and I thought this would be the best place to get an honest opinion from a lady. When you are at an event with a lady as your guest but you are not engaged, how do you introduce them? Or do you merely let them do it?

- C.M.

A gentleman always introduces a lady with him, no matter if it is his wife, his mother, or simply a friend. If your intentions with your companion are romantic but you are not yet engaged, merely introduce her by her name without a title. Everyone should understand.

I cannot help but be curious about how you know this; it seems to me your courtship was notoriously short. - M.

I will remind my husband and others that many girls do have courters before the age of seventeen.

I've had very little experience with culinary arts and etiquette. There is a dear family with whom I an acquainted, who have recently sustained the death of their eldest child in a tragic railway accident. I was speaking with my cook upon the matter and she suggested that we send them some sort of dish in sympathy. I thought it a splendid idea at first. And it is only now that I am not so certain. Is it polite to send food upon such an occasion? Or would a monetary gift be far more appropriate?

- M.M.

Gifts of food are usually the most appropriate in a time of mourning; they are both thoughtful and much more personal than money. The only time monetary gifts for a death are truly appropriated is when the family has requested donations to a charitable cause in lieu of flowers.

I have heard from a friend whose brother knows a man whose cousin knows Sherlock that a rebellious Sherlock got a small tattoo on his back as a teenager. Is this fact?

- E.A.

This is not true according to Sherlock himself, Mycroft, and Dr. Watson. I believe Dr. Watson would have seen it by now, living with him all these years, if one was there.

What might have started this little rumour is the fact that he has a dark birthmark on his shoulder blade. If you squint, turn your head sideways, and use a lot of imagination, it might look like a skull. Or a splotch. - M.

I wonder if you might recommend any particular conversation starters for acquaintances that you have just met. I always seem to have difficulty thinking what to ask just after the particulars of occupation have been established. Thank you.

- M.Q.

Asking someone about their profession is always a way to guarantee conversation. No matter how humble they claim to be, the favoured topic of most people is themselves. Do not blame me, however, if this gets you stuck listening to a lecture on an occupation you can barely pronounce all night. Most associated of Mycroft's have titles that belong in dictionaries.

elsewhere in London:

Mycroft Holmes did not consider himself a vain man by any means, but the spreading of grey at his temples was a bit of a depressant for any man. Normally very aware of anything and everything around him, he gave a start when Ann Marie opened the door of the suite water closet. He could see a knowing smile in the mirror.

"You're being silly," she spoke, coming to join him in front of the full-length glass.

The comparison between himself and his wife did not help his ego, and he brushed at his dark hair as if his examination of it was purely casual. "It will only get worse."

"You have those wonderful light eyes, Mycroft, you'll look dashing with grey hair. Besides, I doubt that you'd ever dye it."

He bristled a bit at the very suggestion. He was not _that_ vain.

"Me, on the other hand..." she sighed, peering closer at her own image and fingering a blonde ringlet as if it itself were glass. "I have dark eyes. I'm going to look terrible grey."

"Somehow, I doubt that. And you have quite a few years," murmured the man as he adjusted his collar and ran a hand over his face to make sure his razor had missed no spots.

She left him to the mirror, going to her jewellery box to retrieve her pearls for the rosebud pink dress she had chosen. There was a long space of silence before she looked over her shoulder towards him. "Will you still think I'm beautiful...?"

"Hmm...?" His mind was already on other things; numbers, situations, and solutions.

"When I've gone grey. Entirely. Will you still think I'm beautiful?"

"Are you actually worried about that? If it's any comfort, I'll never see you go grey." The knowing smile had gone to a confused tilt of the head. "Grey hair won't show up well against the blonde to begin with, and you'll be at least in your late fifties or sixties... My family had a tendency to fade in colour early."

"So?"

"An average man lives to be around seventy. When you are fifty, if I am still alive I would be seventy-three As I said before, I'll never see you go grey." A seemingly casual shrug as he turned away from the mirror only to be faced with an expression that did not look at all comforted. "... What?"

"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," she murmured, eyes on the ground, sounding rather downtrodden.

He sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes had he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Everyone dies, Ann. It can't be helped. Women live longer anyway, and I have a quarter of a century head start on you. The odds are in your favour."

"They're not in my favour, not like that."

Another sigh as he cupped her chin and brought her gaze up. "Ann, look at me. I mean it. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, but ignoring something doesn't make it go away. Death is an end, not an entirety. Besides... Say I'm average, something I'm rarely guilty of, and do live to seventy. That's thirty years you'll have had with me. Isn't that better than nothing?"

She was silent, moving only to cling onto him and rest her head against his chest.

Yet another sigh as he wrapped his arms around her. "I should have just said 'Yes, you'll look wonderful',, shouldn't I?"

She nodded.

AN: Thank you to all who reviewed and/or submitted questions! This week's bonus feature is lovingly ripped off from Pompey's "Five Things Sherlock Holmes Never Did" collection; five drabbles focused around the question "What if?". All you need to do is leave a question, and you get a glimpse of what it would be if the younger Holmes married our columnist.


	16. XV

Can you really wrap your arms all the way around Mycroft? I'm trying to picture a woman with arms that long, and the vision is not flattering.

- K.S.

In short, no. Our sizes are quite mismatched in many ways; I cannot even touch my lips to his standing on tiptoe. We do manage, however, to at least display some affection despite the fact that he makes me feel like a pixie.

Have you ever met Irene Adler, "The Woman" from A Scandal in Bohemia? If you have, did she seem to have any interest at all in Sherlock? I mean, we all know that Sherlock is a confirmed bachelor, and probably will be one for the rest of his days, but that does not stop Irene from...well..."liking" him.

-H.C.

I have never met Irene Adler (now Mrs. Norton), but people have told me about her and we did exchange several letters. I do not believe Mrs. Norton ever had romantic inclinations towards Sherlock so much as, like Sherlock himself, was intrigued by competition in a usually solitary game.

What is a polite way to receive guests when one's home is in the process of being unpacked after moving? (Assuming these guests were not invited but rather a welcoming committee?)

-K.V.

There is not much one can do when receiving unexpected guests in the middle of arranging a house but apologize for the mess (although it is hardly your fault, apologizing does not always have to mean you were in the wrong). A good way to unpack, however, is to have the rooms frequented most by company set first (such as the sitting room and dining room), and have more private areas (the bedrooms and kitchen) done last.

Did Mycroft Holmes have any certain objects that he was attached to when he was younger?

- K.N.

He did not have any security blankets or animals (or so he tells me; Sherlock was born too late to remember his early years), but he does have a battered copy of a thin poetry book that he has had since he was very young and still keeps close by.

I would hardly call "Tao Te Ching" mere poetry. Most of Asia thrived because of it, you know. - M.

I have been in monogamous courtship with a wonderful man I'll call "Peter" for nearly a year and a half now. We know we want to marry, and people are constantly asking us when the date will be, if it's an official engagement yet, when he'll buy a ring... The truth is that my parents do not want us to become engaged until he finishes college and we agree with them. Is there a polite way to tell people that we will be engaged when we feel the time is right?

- N.P.

"We will be engaged when we feel the time is right." would be the correct answer in this case. As long as you are not being rude about it, I feel you have the right to give an honest answer to those who are prying. If waiting is what is best for you, then it is precisely what you should do.

I've had my dog Indy for several months now and she has suddenly developed this horrid love for chickens...my mothers' chickens, that is. I've purchased a 'training' collar and am working with Indy, but I work a full time job and really need my family to help out part of the time. Needless to say, I'm getting a very negative response and my mother and I are fighting more and more about it every day (it probably doesn't help much that I detest feathered fowl and wouldn't mind shooting them myself). I've always heard that you should choose your battles and I'm rather wondering whether I should keep fighting or just get rid of the dog? What do you think?

- V.H.

Is there any possibility of seeking help from a professional trainer? If it has only been a few months, there may be plenty of time to correct Indy's behaviour. Tethering might keep her away from the chickens and out of trouble if they are penned. If the problem simply cannot be resolved, you may wish to find a nearby friend with the same aversion to birds to board the poor thing at.

Do you have any tips for dealing with a husband who absolutely refuses to get out of bed and consequently arrives late for his job?

- R.S.

The nice way would be gentle persuasion and kind words. The effective way would be cold water. The first must be ongoing, but a man usually learns quicker from the later. He will probably be eventually grateful.

I suddenly find myself thankful that I am usually the first one up... - M.

This is always something I've worried about; a bottle of wine is a very standard gift to any host at a party, but my husband and I do not drink any alcohol. Is it politer to just refuse it outright, or accept the bottle and give it to someone else?

- T.D.

The proper thing to do is accept it, of course, but giving a gifted item to someone else is normally in bad form. If it is given to a relative informally, however, it is within etiquette. Another option is to open the bottle at the occasion for the other guests.

What kind of relationship do Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson have? Because there are some rumours going around... And I have this from a very reliable source.

- R.T.

To be perfectly honest, I do not probe into the depths of anyone's personal affairs. Sherlock and Dr. Watson are flatmates and have been close friends for many years, and that is all I know and care to know. Quite honestly, rumours such as that worry me not for the illegality of the matter but because of the numerous "vigilantes" who seem to take it upon themselves to do harm against those nothing has been proven against, making such accusations, and even rumours, quite dangerous to those they involve.

I really must second this opinion. Rumours will always exist but working with the government I have seen many dour scenes and anyone who does not realize the gravity of the spoken word may wish to research the infamous Salem witch trials. - M.

A dear friend has been pining for a certain man for the last two years. I see the gentleman regularly, but we rarely exchange more than ten words. My friend also sees him regularly and is becoming increasingly nervous in his presence. It takes her upwards of thirty minutes to muster the courage to speak when near him, because she fears saying something he might find fault with. She's not herself. What can I do to help her?

-R.S.

I must admit that there is little to soothe a plain and simple crush. I think the best course of action would be to approach him together, and as you seem to be the more bold of the two of you, you could attempt to strike up a conversation between the pair. Your friend should know that if a man finds too much fault in every single thing a woman says, he is hardly a person one wishes to spend great amounts of time around.

elsewhere in Oxfordshire (minus thirty-five years):

He was supposed to be in bed, but it was always easy enough to slip past his nanny's room and pick the lock on the library doors. It was nearly eleven according to the mantle clock (and they were always right), and his eyelids were beginning to drop and the words before him were blurring.

The supreme good is like water,  
which benefits all of creation  
without trying to compete with it...

Mycroft was about to replace the red-covered book on the shelf and creep back to his room before he heard sharp footsteps in the hall. He remained cross-legged in the chair, tome clutched to his chest, listening.

"Three months, and you're just... Violet...!"

"I've been _busy_, Sigerson! So have you! If you hadn't been, you might have noticed before now!" The footsteps stopped, and there was the small sound of fabric against panelling. His mother was leaning against the wall. "I did not need this now... We were being so careful!"

"You are making this sound like a plague, not a blessing!" His father rarely raised his voice, and even now it was more like haplessness than anger. "You nearly knocked me over when you found out you were pregnant with My..." A pause, and the boy behind the doors could not help but grimace. "_This_ is what this is about."

"It is _not_, Sigerson. My work is entering a crucial stage and you have no idea how much it can toy with your mind and..."

"You think this child will be like him. Another child you can avoid because of some trivial little difference..."

"Trivial little difference! Not even you can deny there's something... Something not right about him, Sigerson! He's six years old, a boy his age shouldn't know a fraction of the things he knows!"

"We're both intelligent people, so naturally..."

"It's beyond intelligent! It's just... _not right_!"

It is easier to carry an empty cup,  
than one that is filled to the brim.  
The sharper the knife,  
the easier it is to dull.

"I don't care how smart he is, Violet! I don't care how many of his tutors have resigned! He is your son and you should love him!"

"I _do_ love him, and don't you dare say I don't, but even you must admit that there's something wrong with him! That he'll never be anywhere near normal! If you'd let me take him to my superiors in London..."

"Then they'd see him as a tool and nothing more! You know they would! He is a young boy and he is my son, and he and this child will be nothing but my children in my eyes. I am sorry if you see Mycroft as some sort of cosmic abacus in dissimilarity."

Storming footsteps and the slam of his mother's study door. It had a distinctive slam as it had been soundproofed by Violet Holmes herself. There were several of his father's heavier footsteps and then they paused and Mycroft gave a guilty cringe. He had been reading by moonlight but he had failed to relock the library doors. His head was hung as he heard one (the left one, he noted, by the sound of it) swing open.

"Mycroft, you should not be up." Mycroft Sigerson Holmes Senior was a tall man but he was lanky in contract to the boy's uncle, who was built solidly with muscle. His dark hair, usually immaculate, bore the traces of bony fingers toying with it, as he often did when he was nervous. His glasses gleamed in the moonlight flooding through the library window.

If you overly esteem talented individuals,  
people will become overly competitive.

The six-year-old suddenly felt very small in the wing-backed chair. "I am sorry, Father. Mother..." He hesitated slightly but his father's expression told him to continue. "Mother lied, didn't she? When she said she loved me."

The man sighed heavily, striding over and scooping the boy into his arms, scanning his face. His own family's dark, curly hair, chubby cheeks that he might outgrow, his mother's grey eyes that contained something he had never seen in anyone else, let alone one so young. "She was not lying, Mycroft. She does love you. She simply... does not know how to convert that love into actions. Quite frankly, I think even a less intelligent child would baffle her." He departed from the library, son clutched against him.

"Mother's going to have another child." The statement was devoid of any bias.

"She is. In about six months."

"I hope it's a girl."

"You can't chose its gender, Mycroft."

He smiled, the copy of the thin philosophy collection still in his hand. "I know, but I hope it's a girl."

That which is well latched  
can not slip away.  
Those who do things well  
will be honoured from generation to generation.

If this idea is cultivated in the individual,  
then his virtue will become genuine.  
If this idea is cultivated in your family,  
then virtue in your family will be great.

AN: This is being posted a little early (though I am sure no one minds) because I have no idea when I will be back from post-exam celebrations tomorrow. The little bonus story for submitting a question this week is in compliance to all the reviewers of "The Girl" who wanted to know just what Holmes did to put his brother and himself in danger. I will give away but two words; plate glass.


	17. XVI

An acquaintance has expressed interest in losing weight for his wedding and has actually taken serious steps towards accomplishing this goal. However, he has complained that "diet food" and "eating healthy" is expensive. Would it be terribly forward of me to offer some recipes that are both inexpensive and healthy?

- P.Y.

I think it would be a wonderful idea to give him a helping hand if he was the one to express interest in losing weight; if he has taken the first step, you are no longer in danger of being forward. It would be a very thoughtful gesture I am sure he would appreciate.

I was just wondering if you had ever met Mrs. Mary Watson? And if so, what you thought of her? We never got to really 'see' her though the eyes of anyone else but Watson, and she seemed like such an interesting woman. Thank you!

-V.H.

I, unfortunately, never had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Watson. She passed on the year before I married Mycroft. I have been told who did know her that she was a very unique, amiable woman and Dr. Watson has told me many times with a smile that she would have enjoyed my company. I do wish I had known her; I imagine we would never have been at a loss for conversation.

We live in a neighbourhood that's absolutely beautiful expect for one thing; one home on our street has a disaster of a lawn. They do not have it tended to properly and no matter the season it is always yellow and patched. Their house is not in prime repair, either. I know this family personally and they have the means to keep their property looking presentable and yet they do not! Is there a polite way to suggest they do a bit of renovation that will not make me look like a busybody?

- H.A.

I think the technique of subtle hinting would do the trick there. Lines such as "Oh, we just switched gardeners and the contractor was wonderful... I should give you their address." and "My husband and I were just thinking of painting the house. He thinks blue, but that's more suited to a house like yours." can be dropped casually into conversation to put the subject out there. If merely hinting does not work, you may wish to ask, very sensitively, if there is a reason the yard has been in disrepair.

Is there any way to decline a funeral invitation? I received one from a family I knew quite well years ago but fell out of touch with, and travelling to it would requite my husband taking two days off of work.

- F.D.

Often when someone sends a funeral invitation to someone far away, it is not to actually invite them to the funeral but inform them of the person's passing in a more tasteful way than letting them read it in the obituaries. You are not expected to attend, but sending a small bouquet of flowers or even a sympathy card would be a kind gesture.

Have you ever seen Sherlock emotional?

How is Mycroft's relationship with Sherlock and who do you think is closest to him(Sherlock that is)?

Is it true Dr. Watson is Scottish? And what does the 'H' in his name stand for?

- R.T.

It depends what one classified as emotional. I have seen him display emotions; snaky, irritable, peevish and disagreeable are all emotions. He also gets extremely eager when on any sort of case. More pleasant emotions do sometimes show through, although I wish for my own sake it was more often.

Just when I think I have the bond between the Holmes brothers pegged, they seem obligated to do something that proves me wrong. There are times when the two can all but read each others' minds and no sentence ever gets finished. There are also times when I honestly think they will murder one another. When it comes down to the wire, I had two brothers of my own that I did see from time to time, and once all the deductions and environment is thrown away, Mycroft and Sherlock act very much like brothers. As for who is closest to him, Mycroft has known him the longest but Dr. Watson does live in close proximity to him, so I would say the two balance out to even.

Dr. Watson himself is not Scottish, but most of his ancestry is Scottish, which leads to his middle name "Hamish", a Scottish version of the more common "James" (although how, I have no idea).

I married a man who already had two young children who are now five and seven, and they largely consider me to be their mother (and the feeling is likewise). The problem is my father; he refuses to treat my stepchildren like his own grandchildren. This is especially depressing for them because he and my mother dote on my blood child, who just turned two, while completely ignoring them and the fact that my husband's parents are already deceased. Can I make them see that they're depriving my children of having grandparents?

- B.R.

A heart-to-heart talk with your parents may be in order. Tell them frankly that you expect them to treat all three children exactly the same. If they still will not see the light, the said reality may be that they will never be a large part of the children's lives. In substitute, perhaps you could increase visits to other relatives on both sides of the family who more appreciate your family.

elsewhere in Dover:

Even though the sun was set when they reached the grandeur hotel, the huge chalk cliffs stood blanche white against the dark of night and the very sight of the legendary landmark took Ann Marie's breath away three seconds before the lack of traction between the soles of her boots and the ice took her balance away for the third time.

Mycroft gave a third sigh when thin arms grabbed at him a third time for stability and reached out to steady her. "Ann, must 'practical women's clothing' be a complete oxymoron? I told you to wear sensible boots."

"No," she managed to squeak out, trying not to break her neck on the walkway. "You told me to pack them, and I did. I'm just not wearing that pair."

"Oh, for the love of..." The bellhop was carting the bags and therefore his arms were free, and he hardly wanted the first real vacation they took together to start with her getting stitches. With one fluid motion he took her legs out from under her, hefting her up into his arms.

Her shriek was enough to tell him he should have warned her. "_Mycroft_!"

"Those boots have no grip on the soles, I won't let you endanger your safety." His grip, warm and strong around her as if an embrace, was to keep her flailing and retaliation to a minimum.

Ann Marie could hear the younger Holmes chuckling behind them and her face flushed red. "Mycroft, I mean it, put me down right now!"

"I'll put you down once we're inside. If you struggle too much, you're just bound to make me drop you."

Mrs. Shellac had been helping to run not only the huge Beulah House hotel but also several smaller lodgings ever since her husband had bought the first of many a good forty years ago, and yet she never tired of the people. A prime example of what warmed her heart came in the door once the sun set on a bitter November night.

The groom appeared to be a fair score older than her, but love never had been much good with numbers once both involved were both old enough to know better. Portly but handsome in the face and eyes, he was being the proper romantic at the moment.

Although the beautiful blonde in his arms sounded furious with him, her expression told other tales. Brave girl, there was no fear on her face for her wedding night. Not that there should have been.

"Matty," she whispered to the boy at the desk after they had been shoed into the sitting room to wait for their lodgings, on her way to go inspect the china shipment. There was a youthful smile playing easily on her lined face. "Make sure that pair get a suite for newlyweds, even if they didn't book it. Surprise them."

The sandy-haired youth frowned slightly. "There's two parties with the same name as them, ma'am, how am I supposed to know which one to switch without asking?"

"Silly thing..." Mrs. Shellac sighed, taking the burgundy reservations book and opening it. "You young men today lack so much perspective... See here, two Holmes parties, but one is under two names; Holmes and Watson."

"So it's the singular one."

"No, Matty," she explained, patient as ever. "They booked this several days ago, Watson must be that dear thing's maiden name." She headed off to the kitchen, wafting on air for her good deed for new love.

Matthew Coney frowned once more as he looked down at the names, trying to remember something, before going to tell the bellhops where the bags were going. Had he checked in the official reservations book and not the brief one at the desk, he might have seen that the room in question had hardly been booked months in advance but rather the night before and that the room the newlyweds had apparently been intending to share contained two beds.

Mycroft and Ann Marie retired to one of the best suites that Whitehall had secured for them. Holmes did find it odd that they were not overly far from them as they had reserved a double room. What greeted he and Watson was a single bed layered with roses, an arrangement of lit candles, and a bottle of champagne.

It only took him a moment to piece together what must have happened, and he chuckled as he went over to fetch the bottle of alcohol. "I do not blame them for thinking my brother and the girl to be freshly wed the way they were carrying on."

Watson frowned, glancing around the room. "Why would they mistake two names for that of an obviously married couple?"

"A bad assumption and lack of research. They must have thought the couple booked it while their names were unchanged, but had they checked the dates..." He shrugged and popped the cork off, sending it shooting towards the ceiling and foam drizzling, sending him grasping for a towel left on the table. "But I've never been one to turn down free alcohol. Blow out those candles, old man, they're a fire hazard."

Watson complied, extinguishing them and leaving a highway of smoke fading away in the air before turning up the gas lights. "I won't turn down a drink after that trip, but a bit of a shame. Your brother and Mrs. Holmes would have appreciated the sentiment more."

"Mycroft is as wary as candles as I am and the girl very rarely drinks. They have been married a good ten months now, Watson, I hope they have moved past the token romantic stage. That, and roses tend to make Mycroft sneeze." He handed a flute to Watson, smiling wryly. "We had a cousin who kept a garden of them just to torture him until that Delilah Hart tore them up and salted the ground for Mycroft's sake. She never admitted to it, but we knew it was her."

The doctor could not help but chuckle as he sipped the fine champagne. "Are we to share the bed, then?"

"It's big enough, and we've done the same in smaller when cases did not go as planned. I promise not to kick out in the night."

"Kick all you want, Holmes, but if you do I'll make use of the picture window and send you through it."

Holmes laughed, in a genuinely good mood. All things considered, anyway.

The next morning, Mycroft sneezed through breakfast and Ann Marie was the only one confused as to why.

AN: The bonus piece this week is a little special for two reasons. The first reason is that it's in first person and one gets to see inside the mind of Ann Marie. The second reason is that it contains a very big hint to the plot of "The Girl" that other people aren't going to get for about another week. So if you want the down-low before anyone else, just submit a question via review or PM.


	18. XVII

Why does Sherlock have to use chemicals in his work?

- B.J.

Chemical reactions can reveal a great deal about the substance being tested. I do not know the details of the study of chemistry, but when certain elements meet, they react in an attempt to gain stability. This may sound pointless, but by observing reactions one can tell the presence of blood and other matter, what substances a subject contains, and much more. Also, I believe he may just have a strong interest in blowing things up at times.

Has Sherlock ever been attacked by a rabid animal?

- M.S.

According to both him and Mycroft, not yet, but give it time. It is an eventuality in his line of work. I only hope that when it happens, he is far from my doorstep.

Recently my parents have been in a bit of a fight over the fact that my Father is leaving to go to city for some time and we are quite unable to accompany him. They are having regular fights and the whole household is always shaken up. I hate it. How do I stop this?

On a mischievous note : How tall is Mycroft, Sherlock and Dr. Watson?

- R.T.

As cold as this may sound coming from an outsider, you may not be able to stop it. If you feel it is appropriate, you may wish to inform your parents that they are setting the house on edge and request they discuss their problem more civilly. When it comes down to it, however, they are your parents and you should abide by the decision they make.

In short (no pun intended, dear readers, I swear), too tall. From my best guesses, Mycroft must be shy of six foot four, Sherlock is about six foot two even, and Dr. Watson is five foot nine, which means all of them tower easily over me.

You say that as if the task is difficult. - M.

It has been rumoured that Dr. Watson was married as many as five times. Having studied the Canon extensively myself, I can only come up with two separate occasions of matrimony. Can you shed any light on the subject?

- V.H.

This is actually a subject that's caused Dr. Watson numerous headaches in years past. Although I do not like to in any way put down "The Strand", there are numerous errors that occur between the original manuscripts and the final typesetting. Dr. Watson cannot fathom why it happens to him, but one only has to glance at his typical physisian handwriting to know why he is causing an editor even more headaches. Although in two stories a second Mrs. Watson is hinted at, these were catastrophic typos that "The Strand" has insisted upon retaining in future printings, mostly out of pride. Another example of this sort of error can be seen in "The Man with the Twisted Lip" where the late, and only, Mrs. Watson supposedly referred to her own husband by the wrong name. There are other such mistakes as well, though how ones writing can be so bad that one cannot distinguish "leg" from "shoulder" is beyond me. While I have the utmost respect for Dr. Watson, I do wish the man would learn to use a typewriter.

Although I do agree, I would much rather a doctor be skilled in medicine over penmanship. - M.

I have a small group of friends with whom I socialize and enjoy having over for the occasional gathering. Most of them are married, while I am not. One couple is 'blessed' with what I can only term a 'demon child'. He is active to the point of being a danger to my cat and any breakables in my rather small flat, is loudly shrill and insistent at being included in all activities and conversation, and the worst of it is, his parents seem oblivious to anything being amiss and seem to love _including him, as they could easily arrange for a sitter. He is quite old enough (nine) and intelligent enough to entertain himself, or at the very least be more aware of the social graces, and in fact his older brother is quite adept at these and a pleasure to have in company. The parents themselves are the very souls of gentility and charm, so their blind-spot in this one regard is even more amazing to me. My question is, is there _any _polite way of phrasing an invitation to request 'no children' without insulting these old and dear friends? Or, as you have close experience dealing with two gentlemen whose baby pictures could well have been in the dictionary next to the word "precocious", perhaps you can advise me with ways to deal with the little devil without being taken up in front of a judge? Thank you! _

- C.G.

Unfortunately, there are no laws that state that a parent must have at least modest control of their child and I believe this to be one of our country's few shortcomings. Although you can hardly state "no children permitted" in writing or vocally, you may want to arrange your meetings later at night to discourage them bringing him or, if you are going out, make it to more adult places. If your good will has been exhausted, a little white lie might also do wonders; drop a few comments that mentioned feline has been known to claw up smaller children. As for dealing with him head-on, perhaps keep some age appropriate books or puzzles on hand to keep him occupied, or ask his more behaved older sibling to keep him in check.

The later was the strategy of my parents. I'll let you be the judge of how well it worked. - M. 

Recently quite a stir has been caused in our community. An American family has with three daughters have moved in, these girls have completely stolen the hearts of all the eligible men at our club - we have been completely shunned to one side. What should we do, for it is completely breaking my dear friend's heart, as the man she loves is now failing to notice her existence. Should we simply do nothing, hoping these flashy birds of paradises' effects will wear off, or is total inaction too risky? As good, wholesome British women we simply cannot compete with their red lips, lilting accents and bright yellow hair. Please help!

- D.C.

First of all, you are doing the right thing by not sinking down to their level. As tempting as it may seem seeing their temporary success, there are better ways to get more wholesome attention. Men sometimes can have a short vision into the future, and while they see these women as beautiful now, they hardly seem the kind of girls who would make good wives. I recommend reminding them of your own, more practical, assets, perhaps with a few well-selected recipes. The saying "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." is usually a very true one.

Has your husband ever shared with you information about previous romances or childhood "crushes"?

- P.Y.

While I know there must have been other women in his life in forty years and do not hold this against him, Mycroft prefers not to talk about such things. Sherlock has mentioned one childhood sweetheart, but the fact that the name he mentioned is of a well-known Shakespearean actress that even I know, I suspect he is merely baiting me.

elsewhere in London:

Mycroft,

I came to your house, but your maid informed me that you are currently in Dover and she did not know when you would be back. Perhaps it was a mixed blessing; it is easier to organize my thoughts on paper. Not to mention I do not think your wife would approve of me. I have not been what one might call a proper lady for a long, long time.

I have been in France since we last met. When I heard of your marriage, I was worried you had hidden an engagement from me to absolve any guilt I might feel after our last time together. I happened to meet one of the porters from your club and he informed me of the full story. If I were a jealous woman, I would regret ever teaching you to play poker.

I am not innocent of pursuing younger men by any means, Mycroft, but seventeen? I retain a bit of dignity by waiting until they are gone from their cradles. Do not think I disprove of your choice, however, despite my teasing. I have seen pictures of her, my friend, and she looks nothing short of fragile of spirit. I cannot recall you dropping so much as a saucer and I know you to be one of the most gentle men in many ways.

She certainly is beautiful, this wife of yours. I wish I still had her youth. I cannot help but look in the mirror nowadays and feel old. You are not as vain as I, I know, but no doubt the number forty-one is weighing the least bit on your shoulders. You and I are past our dancing days. I am glad you married, my friend. I used to wonder if on the day I retired from the stage for good, you would finally be ready to marry. As I have told you many times, I could never even entertain the notion of marriage while I still worked. I realize now how cruel it was to assume you would linger as a bachelor, or even to assume that you would still love me when I've ordered you so many times not to.

Do you remember, my dear friend, what I said when we were nineteen and finally alone? I whispered "Remember now, you can't keep me." I must be cruel only to be kind, I thought at the time. I realize my error now; you would not form emotional bonds when told not to, and you would hold no fantasies of making me your little wife. I, on the other hand, held on to silly dreams of making good of you, of wearing a matching ring. You should have been the one to warn me, Mycroft, that I could never keep you. Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

I regret neither my words or my actions, my friend. I could not exchange my career on the stage and my travels of the world to be your loyal, obedient wife. I care a great deal for you, but I am simply not wife material and I always did move a bit too quickly through life for your liking. No doubt you saw this from the start with your near omnipresent mind and knew that a relationship beyond friendship and physicality between us would never last; misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

This Ann Marie is more suited to you. I have read some of her columns and from them I gather that she will forever stay a step behind you, always ready to serve, never straying for trivial distractions and fantasies. I can nearly see the two of you in your sitting room, one of those lazy nights by the fire you always enjoyed and I always grew restless during, you buried behind your latest literature and her with her neat sewing. Or perhaps her scribbling away for her column and you faithfully marking and correcting her errors like a patient schoolmaster. I was never the type to sit still even when I grew up and into a woman. I still long to walk on fence posts, not beside an important man at a ball.

For all I despise in the monotony of marriage, I consider your wife to be a lucky person and I hope she knows just how lucky. I wish the pair of you all the happiness in the world. I return to France this evening; I do not know when I will return to London again or if I ever will. I feel out of place in the city I once thrived in. I hope you love her, my dearest friend, or at least enjoy her. Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

"Now go we in content  
To liberty, and not to banishment."

Yours in love,

Delilah Hart

AN: The bonus section today is a bit of modern AU set in a hospital. Rest assured there is no angst in it at all. Most Mycroft/Ann Marie banter than anything, along with a taste of Canadian culture. So submit a question!


	19. XVIII

In the tale entitled 'The Sussex Vampire' Dr. Watson mentions a case involved a 'giant rat of Sumatra'. Have you ever heard anything mentioned of this odd sounding case, and if so, is the world still 'unprepared' for it?

- V.H.

I have not heard them mention this in casual conversation. I asked the pair of them over dinner. Watson fell silent and Sherlock only grinned. Mycroft muttered something I could not quite make out. I believe this means that the world is quite unprepared for it. Or at least I am.

Personally, this is one item I hope remains buried at the bottom of Watson's desk drawer. - M.

My question is this, what is truly the measure of Sherlock's talent with a violin? Watson speaks highly of him but one can be blind where one's best friend in concerned.

- L.N.

Even though I am a critic of Sherlock, I will admit that he plays the violin beautifully. I admire musical talent, considering I never was able to have any myself, and I would say Sherlock, on a good day, is almost on par with a professional.

There is a young man whom I used to be on friendly terms with, and one day he asked me to accompany him to a social event. I had long believed that he was romantically interested in me, and while I did not return such feelings, I have never been courted by a man, and so decided to accept his invitation. However, later in the week I was informed that he was being openly flirtatious with another lady, and so politely retracted my agreement to accompany him. But now he manages to worm his way into whatever conversation I am having, and if by chance a seat next to me is vacant, he will promptly take it, regardless if other seats are available! He is rather trying on my nerves and emotions, but I can't bring myself to confront him. Have you any advice on the matter?

- A.K.

If you cannot gather the nerve to order him to stand down yourself, I recommend enlisting the help of either a male relative or a more outward mother, sister, or female friend. I was spared any audacious attention from courters thanks to two brothers and a close friend who inspires fear in many people...

Why do most people think that Mr. Holmes (the younger) is so very unpleasant? To be perfectly honest, a lot of the things I read about him doing seem rather normal to me...except for the cocaine. But, then, maybe I'm strange...?

And what is the best way to get lint off of one's dressing-gown? It's a little plush, and I don't want it damaged.

-K.S.

Although the cocaine is bad enough, his personality truly is one of an elevated figure. He can be egoistic, snarky, and downright immature at times. He is easily bored, and his ways of amusing himself are usually at the loss of those around him or his health. In my case, however, it is mostly a personality clash; his "Bohemian" lifestyle is rather far from proper. Although he does have his redeeming features that make it tolerable to be around him, I can honestly say I would not be so patient in his company if he were not a relation.

One way to keep lint from collecting in the first place is to wash clothes with about a cup of vinegar. I have no idea what the science behind this is, I only know that it works. A quicker way is to wrap packing tape sticky side out and press it to the cloth; it will pick the excess fabric right up.

I am a great fan of Dr. Watson so I was wondering: exactly how does he look? His features are explained rather vaguely in the stories he writes, so can you give me exact details like colour of his eyes and hair?

Also, what is the colour of Sherlock and Mycroft's hair?

- R.T.

I think it is more modesty than anything that keeps Watson from describing himself. He's a bit taller than average with a solid frame, rather classically fine features, brown hair with a hint of red, and light brown eyes. Knowing my husband will know I mean nothing by it, I will say that he is quite a handsome man.

Mycroft and Sherlock both have black hair. Or mostly black, in Mycroft's case.

I will not dignify that with a response. - M.

Does Sherlock have or ever had, a pet of any kind? And if not, why not?

- J.B.

The Holmes family kept horses when Mycroft and Sherlock were growing up along with barn cats, but they could not have pets indoors because of their father's allergies. He had a fish (or, as he now admits, a series of fish), but apparently they did not hold his interest long.

As has been mentioned before, many devoted fans of Dr. Watson's writings take it upon themselves to write their own stories about your brother-in-law, whether or not they are grounded in truth. Are there any stories in particular that bother Sherlock to no end? I know love stories in general have to be included on such a list, but what type of love stories?

-M.N.

You are right in saying that the romance ones are the ones that irk him the most, but I suppose we find rare common ground in the stories that, shall we say, change the relationship between the two of us. I have seen quite a few stories where my romantic interest is not my husband and none of these send a chill through my spine like the thought of being more than the detective's sister-in-law.

Sherlock is not entirely happy over the ones that stick him with Lestrade. He is insulted his fans think such a weak intellect could even amuse him briefly. - M.

What are some of your favourite composers/pieces of music?

- P.Y.

As the hopeless romantic I am, I have to say I like Mozart the best out of classical music. His stories usually have a happy ending as opposed to Wagner. As for more modern music, I've come to like Gilbert and Sullivan almost as much as Mycroft despises them.

I am engaged to marry a widower whose wife died a number of years ago and he claims to have moved past that stage in his life. He seems to refer to his late wife more than me to his friends, however, and sometimes it seems as if when he is talking about her to me, there is a tone in his voice that suggests he believes I will never live up to her. As I have the option of ending the engagement, would you recommend staying in this sort of relationship?

- U.C.

It depends; do you think this is something he is doing intentionally or is he merely still in mourning? I doubt one ever truly overcomes the death of a loved spouse entirely, although many can move on enough to love again. I suggest a very frank discussion with your engaged to uncover his motives. If he truly is entirely in love with his late wife, a second marriage would be the worst thing for him.

As you most likely know, there is a fine, fine line between being polite and being pretentious. How exactly is one supposed to deduce if an invitation is formal or informal and reply similarly without coming off as a snob?

- G.R.

The rule of thumb I always follow (and which has worked so far), is to respond in the same tone as the invitation. If it uses third person, do the same. If it is more casual and on stationary, reply with a letter. If it is scrawled on the back of a calling card, you may wish to seek out new friends.

elsewhere in London:

Emily Francis looked up from her page of physics equations related to the splattering of blood in a windy area, her arm still in a cast and resting on her lap. "Are any of you planning to do any work today?"

Reg Janii did not look from where he was flicking cards into an open desk drawer. He was down to ten, and he had gotten all but five in. "As if we _can_ do anything without Holmes here, Francis. In case you've forgotten, we are mere foot soldiers, meant to toil at the menial tasks and leave the solving to Mr. Holmes. You weren't here the time Dante and I tried to take a case on our own. We both ended up in jail for the night. Have you even been to jail? It wasn't an experience I'd like to repeat."

"I second that opinion," murmured Damien Dante, hidden behind a magazine, idly twirling a cigarette between his fingers.

"Surely there's something we can do!" protested the young woman. "He's going to be buried in work when he comes back."

"Serves him right for buggering off to Dover and leaving us in this foggy Hell. Wish I was there right now." As he tossed the last card, missing the desk drawer and instead having it float down to the floor, he could not help a grin with a fair amount of cheek in it. "Especially if it was with Mrs. Holmes."

Hanes cracked open an eye from where he was reclined at his desk. "I'd beg you not to talk about our lady so."

The ex-soldier snorted. "Come on, Hanes, don't tell me you don't have eyes."

"I'm quite happily married."

"Doesn't mean you're blind, does it? She's a beautiful girl, don't deny it. Francis will back me up on this, won't you?"

The look very nearly killed him. "Don't speak ill of her, Janii. I mean it."

"I'm not speaking ill of her; she's as devoted as a warhorse to Holmes and her loyalty's part of her appeal. I'd never even tease her while she's married, but Holmes _does_ have twenty-three years on her and he hardly is living to preserve his entire health..."

"Janii!" Francis snarled, face in a scowl and flushed red. Even as a tiny female, she painted a fierce picture.

"He has a point, you know," remarked Dante, still fiddling with the rolled tobacco. "_She's_ not Catholic, she could remarry. She's not my type, mind, and I renounce all objectification. That aside, however... She is beautiful. For an Englishwoman, that is."

"You wouldn't think she'd be Holmes's pleasure, either, but then again... A woman who can offer an environment devoid of thought after a day of him fighting off pompous intellectuals might be appealing to a man like him."

"Both of you just keep your mouths shut! In that event, I'd be dead in the ground before I'd let you two leaches get anywhere near her."

The Frenchman could not help but snort. "Don't make it sound like you're taking the moral highroad. You'd wed her in a heartbeat if she'd have you and if you wouldn't get lynched for it."

Her face reddened further at this and she returned to her equations, muttering something under her breath.

"For the sake of the ladies of London, Dr. Janii, I hope you settle and marry soon," sighed Hanes with a shake of his head.

"Not a likely chance of that, old top. Their mothers know better and lock up all the courtable daughters in my presence. Besides..." With a humourless smirk, he trailed a hand across his brown face. "What decent girl is going to marry some Saudi? A third generation Brit and people still gape when they hear my English accent."

"The three of you are misfits, something Mycroft Holmes has always seemed to have an affinity for," murmured the man, leaning further back. "And yet ironically he married quite a commonplace and acceptable wife... I suppose you could count our number as four, mind. My proper title is _Lord_ Derrick Hanes."

All three paused, eyes on him, and Janii was the one who got the nerve to speak. "Really?"

Hanes gave an enigmatic shrug and left it at that.

AN: The bonus for leaving a question is something I do not write nearly enough of; Watson and Ann Marie interaction.


	20. XIX

AN: Keep forgetting to mention, there's a new poll up on my profile. This week's extra for submitting a question is a snippet of the Holmes brothers' childhood, including Sherrinford and the ever-elusive Delilah Hart.

Ms. Holmes, there is one question that bugs me to no end, and I curse the day that my friend brought it up, Has/Does Sherlock believe in something that you think is absolutely untrue in every sense of the word?

- M.J.

As any reader of Dr. Watson's stories knows well, Sherlock believes that the end justifies the means, and therefore it is perfectly fine to bend and break laws and toy with the emotions of others as long as a case goes successfully. After reading through the older stories, I was horrified at the escapades he's written off as the heroic pursuit of justice. "The Dying Detective" strikes a particular nerve with me; Dr. Watson never deserved such worry.

How does Sherlock Holmes react around children?

Have you met any of the Baker Street Irregulars?

- M.P.

It depends on the child. Sherlock has a number of young admirers (although I wonder if their parents know the amount of violence in the stories), and he's as civilly curt with them as he is with everyone else. I've also seen him make spoiled children of his clients cry. He once told me he is always more optimistic around stupid children than stupid adults, for the children have time to grow.

I have met a fair number of the Irregulars, either upon them coming to fetch Mycroft at Sherlock's request or them seeking him out here. They are quite polite young men for the most part, and I do worry a bit about them. They also seem to have taken to my cooking nearly as well as Mrs. Hudson's...

I was reading the Stories written by Dr. Watson in the strand yesterday and I was struck by how at places Holmes seems to think that the Doctor is at his beck and call and Watson is ready to drop whatever he is doing and come rushing over. Does Sherlock really treat him like this? Doesn't Dr. Watson ever get irked? How does he put up with it?

- R.T.

Sherlock tends to treat Dr. Watson like a servant when he truly needs him and like a brother after the danger has passed. The doctor does have his moments of anger, and yet he remains his companion. I have never quite been able to understand their friendship, and therefore I do not have an answer to your last question, but I do know that they will likely be by each others' side for a long, long time.

As a purely analytical soul, I doubt Mr. Sherlock Holmes takes any enjoyment in modern literature, but if he does, do you have any idea of what new books he happens to favour?

Also, has Dr. Watson ever considered straying from his friend's biographies and writing fiction? While I heartily enjoy the tales of Holmes' exploits, I am curious what else he is capable of.

- A.K

Although he does not read much modern literature, as you predicted, I have seen him from time to time buried in, of all things, detective magazines. Why a man who lives that life and scolds Watson's romantic stories would want to read that is beyond me.

Dr. Watson says he has little interest in fiction; most of what he has seen alongside Holmes is more like fiction than he thought his life would ever be.

Dear Mrs. Holmes, have you ever considered "setting up" one of your friends with your brother-in-law? The right woman can do wonders for a man.

- P.Y.

The thing about my friends is that I am fond of them and enjoy their company. If I were to attempt to arrange a courtship between one and Sherlock, I do not think they would be overly fond of me afterwards. Out of my two closest friends, however, there is one who is a fan of Sherlock's work but I know he would tear her to pieces, and a friend I think could stand Sherlock but has no interest in him whatsoever.

I would not say the lady I know is in question has no interest in Sherlock, merely not in him as a romantic interest in herself. I believe she's responsible for many of the stories about he and Watson out there... - M.

I am fortunate enough to be able to attend boarding school, where I share a room with another young lady. On the whole, my roommate is a lovely girl, but she possesses some qualities which are less than endearing. For one thing, she is... well, for the sake of propriety, I will call her extremely loquacious. She talks incessantly about any and every topic that flits into her head, which are almost invariably subjects in which I have no interest whatsoever. She also often asks me about details of my personal life - the contents of letters I receive, particulars of my school assignments, etc. - about which she has no right or need to know. Furthermore, on the days when her classes begin earlier than mine, she makes a great deal of noise as she goes about preparing for the day, usually resulting in me being awakened long before I intended. Mrs. Holmes, do you have any advice you could offer on how I might persuade my roommate to correct these faults without seeming rude, unreasonable, or demanding? Any help you can give will be appreciated.

- N.S.

I was lucky to have a roommate in school who had similar habits to myself, but I have heard many stories from people who were not so lucky. If at all possible, you might wish to request you be moved to another room. If this is not possible, I think a polite tête-à-tête talk with her about altering her habits would be the first step. She might not even realize how much she is grating on your nerves. Failing this, I would suggest earplugs.

My own approach to this was to scare any roommate one was matched with enough to request a change. I had a single room my entire time at boarding school. - M.

I have a friend who is getting married, and both her parents have been divorced and then remarried. On the invitations to the wedding, which couple's name should come first? Or should it only be the actual mother and father's names, not their new spouses?

And also: the entire literate population is aware that Sherlock Holmes plays the violin well. Does your own husband play any type of instrument?

- K.S.

It depends how close your friend is to their stepparents. If they have a more casual relationship, only the name of her parents should be on the invitation. If they consider them second parents, the names should go on. If you put one on, however, you are obligated to put the other. Traditionally, the father and his wife should go first, but if it is to be a point of conflict one could merely put them in alphabetical order.

The answer to that is a rather solid "no". Mycroft barely even enjoys music. He tells me their parents pushed Sherlock towards the violin to allow him to let off some energy, and it was obvious Mycroft did not have that problem.

And by "some energy", I mean "complete and utter destructive force". - M.

Do you know (and was able to enter) the not-so-famous Diogenes Club?

- S.E.C.

I have been inside the Diogenes Club, but only the entryway to have him summoned and, once, the Strangers' Room. Women are technically not supposed to enter, but as Mycroft is a founder he's allowed a bit of leeway.

I am an American, born and raised in the grand state of Florida, and as such I have a rather heavy southern accent. While this was hardly a handicap for my social life in the States, I'm afraid that now that I've come to live with my grandmother here in England my accent is embarrassing some of my London born relatives. This has led an Uncle of mine, and several cousins, to begin to make cruel remarks, to my grandmother, who is their own mother and grandmother as well for inviting me to stay with her while I attend college here in London. They have done so twice in public and embarrassed her greatly, but because my father's very American wealth has been a boon to the family they continue to invite us both to the very parties that they claim they are ashamed to have us at. I am at my wits end in dealing with these relatives of mine. My grandmother is a very dear lady and deserves none of their scorn, and I did not agree to live with her in order to make her life harder. I am willing to move into a flat of my own if it will help the situation, but frankly I'd rather just take my Uncle out and tar his hide for speaking to my Grandma that way. What can I do to resolve this situation that doesn't involve violence or ill behaviour? I'm afraid that I was raised by a widowed Army veteran and am too used to the more casual manners of American Society to deal with the subtle barbs that are wounding my grandmother to the quick, please offer whatever help you can.

Yours Truly and Desperately, R.L.

I really must say, Southern American accents are much less bland than the Northern dialects. First off, violence is very rarely the answer to a problem. Secondly, there are two ways to deal with this. The first is to speak with your uncle (without resorting to strangling him) and tell him that your grandmother's decisions are not his and he should respect his mother's wishes. It would be more effective if your grandmother would tell him this; I've seen grown men tremble before their mothers. The second option is, if you are willing to, change your accent. Speech therapy can do wonders with the right teacher, and though I've never met him myself, one Prof. Higgins is highly recommended by many people. As for dealing with your rude cousins, I offer only one piece of social advice; no matter what they say and no matter how you respond, sound as if you are talking down to them. Shame is a powerful but wonderful tool.

Dear Mrs. Holmes, how frequently does your brother-in-law come to your husband for help with one of his cases? When this occurs, how and how willingly does your husband provide help?

- S.E.

Although I do not have an exact number, I would have to say that at least one case in ten requires Sherlock to beg help off of Mycroft. Often it is only a scrap of information he needs from records, less often he has hit a complete brick wall. Mycroft will always help him in the end, but he does make an awful tease of himself in making his little brother squirm for it...

I retain the belief that, as firstborn, I am allowed certain perks no matter how old we both are. - M.

Have you ever been to 221B Baker Street? If so, is it really as untidy as Watson describes it in his stories?

- A.A.

I have, and it is. I honestly do not know how they think those rooms are liveable. I have to resist the urge to straighten things up when I'm there because if I do, Sherlock will only complain I am ruining his "system".

elsewhere in London:

Ann Marie took a deep breath as she fussed with her hair, finally deciding to only gather half of her ringlets under the ivory comb. Although her husband never showed any inclination to any particular style, he sometimes toyed with her hair absentmindedly so leaving some of it down might be the best choice.

She was going to do this right. There was a roast keeping warm in the oven (with plenty of extra for his lunch the next day) along with several of his favourite dishes, she had given the maid the night off, and she had clothed herself in one of her best dresses and her diamond bracelet. This was their first child, and this was a moment they'd both remember for the rest of their lives. She wanted to make it count.

She heard the front door open and hurried down the stairs, a smile on her face as she played the scene over in her mind. A flawless dinner, a soothing atmosphere and then she'd say it... It would be like a wonderful, romantic novel. "Mycroft...?"

The man only nodded, not taking of his coat and rushing towards the study. "Do you know where I put those papers on... Never mind, I think they're in..."

The girl could not help but cringe when her brother-in-law chimed in from the doorway "Hurry it up, Mycroft! Time is very much of the essence."

Ann Marie blinked when she saw Holmes, flanked by a group of the street boys he had christened the Irregulars, darkening the doorframe. "Might I ask what is going on?"

"A case. A big one. Matter of national security," the detective shrugged, waving off the question. "We haven't got all night, brother!"

Mycroft returned to the entryway, brandishing an intimidating portfolio of papers. "Found them." He paused before his wife, genuine apology in his watery eyes. "I won't be home until late. Don't wait up for me, you need rest."

She could not withhold a sigh, looking up towards him, at least trying not to pout.

"If this wasn't important, you know I'd leave it to someone else. I'll make this up to you, I swear," he vowed, kissing her cheek quickly before heading towards the door, pausing to sniff the air. "Smells divine. Keep a plate in the oven, would you?"

"Be safe!" she called after him, though she wondered if he heard her as Sherlock practically dragged him towards the waiting cab. With another sigh, she was left looking at the ragtag group still on the porch. "... I take it you boys haven't eaten yet tonight."

It was not an entirely unpleasant dinner; the Irregulars always appreciated good cooking and it was better than being alone in the large house. Their table manners left much to be desires, but for urchins they were a very polite lot.

"You know, mum," spoke Wiggins after gulping down a huge mouthful of beef. "Mr. 'olmes really should treat you a bit better, you bein' a lady an' all, an' by blood, too."

"It's not that he treats me badly, William, not at all. His work is merely a little... engulfing at times," she sighed. "And I've told you a thousand and one times not to call me 'mum'. You're fourteen and I'm only four years older than you."

"But you're gonna be one, ain't you?" piped up one of the younger ones, only to be elbowed by their leader. "What! Mr. 'olmes told the Doc before he fetched 'is brother that she was up the stoke!" He was elbowed again when Wiggins saw the girl's deep blush.

"It is true, but not a _word_ to Mr. Holmes about that!" she scolded, toying with her own food. "He doesn't know yet. I was about to tell him tonight, but it looks like it will wait another day."

There was silence but for the scraping of knives. Wiggins was the next to speak.

"D'you ever wish 'e wasn't 'o 'e is, mum? I mean, that 'e 'ad the time for you?"

"I... Well, lonely nights aside, I'm very proud of him," she replied, smiling towards the boy. "He works very hard to keep the country safe, and if taking care of him and tolerating an empty bed some nights are what I can do to help, I can hardly refuse."

Wiggins returned the grin as the boys began pushing their clean plates away and rising. "You're a strong dame, mum. Stronger than lots of 'em. A couple of us'll keep an eye on the 'ouse tonight, right? Just 'cause of you bein' alone in 'ere."

Ann Marie ruffled his sandy hair. "I'm only strong when I need to be, but so far that seems to have been enough. You boys are very sweet, thank you."

A slight blush rose to his face as he quickly scampered from the dining room, his troupe following after him.

She was smiling as she gathered the plates, the talk of the boys still ringing in her head. She knew Mycroft would not want more than one or two, but she herself would not mind a large family...


	21. XX

Do you feel endangered by your husband's work, or that of your brother-in-law? Do you ever fear that a vengeful criminal might attempt to get revenge on either of them through hurting you?

- S.E.

I will admit there have been periods of time when I've been a bit anxious about that sort of thing, but I do have faith in Whitehall to handle situations such as that. Sherlock and Watson also keep an eye and an ear on their old enemies when they are no longer in prison. I believe Mycroft worries more than I do about it, however.

How did you and Mycroft fall into love? He like his brother seems to be a proud man and one not likely to express feeling easily.

Yours, D.M.

In short, at a moderate pace. He still is rather stiff-lipped about anything concerning emotions and our romance is hardly one out of a passionate novel, but I think we are quite well off in our marriage to one another.

I am firmly in the belief that romance like that in novels should remain on paper. There is no need for behaviour like that in a proper British society. - M.

As the 'cat is rather out of the bag', have you picked out any names for your expected son or daughter? Since the married into which you have married has rather a legacy for 'exceptional' names, do you plan on following suit?

-V.H.

I still cannot believe how quickly this got around (I have a feeling who spoke first, and she knows who she is). Our first son will be named after his father, but finding a name for a girl will be harder. I don't think Mycroft will actually allow a normal name and so I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot of time rooting through books in the coming months. I adore Greek names like Antigone and Hippolyta, but I'm not sure if I could use them knowing the myths behind them...

Which is the reason Electra, Pandora, and Alcmene won't even be considered. - M.

First, when you mentioned the non-existence of Sherlock's tattoo, you said that Watson would have seen it by now, to my mind it suggests Watson would have seen Sherlock shirtless at some point and I can't really think of a scenario that Sherlock would have no shirt.

My second question is why are there so many stories circulating around about Holmes and Watson together? It seems to me that people these days are unaccustomed to the deep friendship those two have, and one tends to want people to fall in love and the like.

Yours Truly, D.M.

Sherlock and Dr. Watson have lived in close proximity for quite a while, and anyone who has ever had to share a space with another of their sex knows that privacy is not always what you'd like it to be. Added to that, there's the fact that Dr. Watson acts as Sherlock's primary physician as it's terrible trying to get him to see someone else, and so between tending gashes and treating colds, it's understandable he must have seen him without a shirt at several points.

I'd attribute two things to these stories. The first is an excess of spare time (although that's an excuse for all of those stories), and the second is the fact that everyone loves a love story. Friendship is all well and good, but I don't think any of us are innocent of having thumbed through a soppy romance novel at some point.

A third reason, they are rather amusing. - M.

We've heard of the Holmeses' cousin Sherrinford, but other than him no other relations have been mentioned except in passing. Have you ever heard Mycroft or Sherlock mention either of their parents? Are they still even alive?

- V.H.

Mycroft and Sherlock very rarely talk about their parents, and Mrs. Heather Holmes (Sherrinford's wife) told me in passing that they had a bit of a rough time with their mother for the first few years of their lives. I do know their father is deceased, and while I believed their mother was for the longest time, Mycroft tells me she is not even estranged from them, she is simply overenthusiastic with her hobby of travel.

How would you react if you heard a dreadfully disgusting and utterly untrue rumour going about concerning yourself?

- R.S.

The ladylike thing to do would be to deny it and ignore it, but the practical thing to do would be to figure out who started it and have a frank discussion that would ensure it would not happen again. I am not in any way advocating blackmail, but some things need to be nipped in the bud.

I've always wondered; when is the proper time to stop addressing a boy as "Master" and begin addressing him as "Mister"?"

- F.G.

This varies, but the general consensus is that a boy becomes a "mister" around the age of sixteen to eighteen. Also, no boy over eight should be addressed as "master" by anyone but a servant (including nannies) or a teacher of any sort.

My husband reads the newspaper at the dinner table almost every night in front of the children. He says it's the only time he has to read the paper. Is it a bit rude to read at the dinner table when there are four other people sitting there?

- I.M.

It is more than bit rude; one hopes he never does it when company is over! As meals are sometimes the only time families have to sit down with one another, your children might be getting the impression he does not have time for them. If you've tried talking to him nicely about it, I suggest hiding it from him. Surely he can find another hour in the day to enjoy his reading.

This is a bit of an odd question; many people feel they make too little money, but the job I have just applied to seems to pay much more than the standard secretary's salary. It is a government institution so I am assured it is nothing unwholesome, but the pay really is more than I need. Should I actually ask them to reduce my pay, or simply not take the job on principal?

- J.J.

Although you should feel no guilt at being overpaid if it is through honesty, if you truly feel torn up about it I suggest you take the job and give the money you feel is excess to a worthy charity. It will help you feel better not only about being overpaid but because you are helping the less fortunate.

This may not be encouraging, but there is a saying that states no government worker is overpaid. Also, while the health benefits are excellent, the catch is you may end up needing to use all of them. - M.

I have seen you do get a few questions from men wanting a woman's opinion, so I take comfort in the fact that I am not alone... If you are at a small gathering at a person's house and a woman's coat or bag is draped across two chairs, is it unforgivably rude to move them onto one so that one can sit down? Or is it better to ask whose belongings they are and ask permission first?

- G.M.

It is perfectly acceptable to just move the items. As long as you are not rooting through her bag or pockets, a lady will understand and would not likely appreciated being interrupted in the middle of a conversation for permission.

Could you please_ tell me what your stance is on long nails? My daughter insists on growing hers out like claws and claims every girl her age does it. Since you are her age, I thought I should ask you. _

- P.M.

Nails grown out a bit, and properly filed and cared for, can be a mark of distinction. Very, very long nails on the other hand look cheap and are a magnet for bacteria. Not only that, but long nails can cause runs in stockings, lace and silks, making them entirely unpractical.

elsewhere in London:

"I honestly hope Mrs. Holmes told him before this ran," Reg Janii commented, arching a dark eyebrow over the magazine. "This would be a bad way to find out."

"Use your brain, Janii," sighed Emily, working diligently even though their employer was not breathing down their necks. "He added a note beneath it, he obviously knew. I found out from Fiona, she told a lot of people. Mrs. Holmes is going to be mad at her..."

"I can't believe Holmes didn't spot it himself; I saw it after they returned from Dover. How much more obvious can morning sickness get? You don't need to be a doctor to pick up on that."

"You also have a herd of younger siblings," pointed out Dante, snatching the magazine from him to leaf through. "You know the symptoms."

"I'm actually the only one my mother birthed, the rest are adopted. I think Mother likes me least out of all of us, though..."

"I don't know why." The young woman's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, how original. Speaking of my younger siblings, my sister's applying for a job here, Emily. She's new to London, you know. Fresh-faced country girl, only a few years older than you..."

"Piss off, Janii, and I mean it. You can't handle your own love life. What's she applying for?"

"Secretary in Research and Development."

She looked up from her papers, a horrified look on her face. "And you're _letting_ her? What kind of a brother are you! There's a reason the position's been empty for two years!"

"Jacqueline has good typing skills and nerves of steel, she's perfect for the job. Makes a mean cup of coffee, too." He doubted anything R&D could produce would rattle her; their childhood had been spent on secular missionary medical work much to their mother's displeasure.

"I have a question and I hardly care if it is rude..." the Frenchman began without looking up from the magazine. "Your sister has a European name, so why do you have an Eastern one?"

Janii scowled slightly. "What do you mean, an Eastern name?"

"You never say what Reg is short for, I assumed it was something exotic."

"It's short for Reginald, you racist frog!"

Emily sighed as she continued her work, tuning the pair of them out. Reginald... Such a noble name for such a brash man. She truly did hope Mrs. Holmes had told her husband the news rather than letting him find out on his own. When Mycroft Holmes was in a bad mood, no one in the office enjoyed life for the next week.

AN: Afraid there's no bonus this week; I'm going on vacation! I think I deserve one after a year and a half of doing "The Girl". The sequel will launch next Sunday. Until then, check out the poll on my profile, get caught up on the "Girl" and "What Words Fail Of", and wonder just how the hell Mycroft Holmes is going to take impending fatherhood.


	22. XXI

_Why is it, do you think, that Sherlock doesn't like women, besides the fact that he thinks us stupid, insipid, illogical, and boring? What I mean to say is, why did he ever start thinking that way in the first place? _

_- B.J._

According to Mycroft, there are two types of women to Sherlock; those he respects and distrusts and those who he does not respect and distrusts. While I've always thought women are no more prone to deceit than men, he feels that the more intelligent our species is, the more damage they are capable of doing. And for those he does not respect, he merely sees no point in women who "accept their fate of boring drudgery". I have no idea why he feels this way; I just wish he would keep it out of dinner conversation.

_My niece is six years old, and she is turning out to be a bit of a "tomboy". She wants to take up sports and she's more happy climbing trees with her older brother than spending time with her mother. Is there anything my sister and I can do to correct this, or do you think it will run its course?_

_- F.Q._

A lot of girls go through a stage where they like getting dirty more than wearing lace, and while I'm told it can be exasperating, it is usually harmless. There are girls' sports she can get involved in at her school; that was the solution of one of my friends who had an excess of energy.

**And you still have a scar from a field hockey stick from one such energy-ridding session with said friend. - M.**

_I have two tattoos, and two scars on my otherwise normal body. I have an acquaintance with a very proper gentleman, and whenever the issue of tattoos comes up he shuns the very idea saying they're only for circus freaks. Both of my tattoos are inspirational to me and I want to continue this friendship; should I tell him or continue to keep my mouth shut?_

_Also, who is your favourite composer? My personal favourite is Beethoven, and I heard a rumour your brother-in-law also liked this composer, is this true?_

_- D.M._

If the issue of tattoos does not come up that often in conversation, it may just be best to keep a tight lip. If they mean so much to you and you know he would not understand, it would be a bit pointless to start a fight over them.

My favourite composer has to be Mozart. I know Sherlock likes Beethoven a great deal, but he's also fond of Bach.

_Now that most of the city knows of your family's "impending joy", knowing that the Holmes brothers are not known for their affection, do you wonder what kind of father and uncle they will make?_

_- C.R._

Mycroft has a great deal of patience, serenity, and compassion, and therefore I think he will make a good father. Sherlock, on the other hand... Well, I am merely glad that Dr. Watson will make a counterbalance, as always.

**Something we can agree on entirely. - M.**

_I am very fond of animals, and I have one grown cat and a new kitten. Although they are primarily housecats, I do let the older cat outside on occasion (with a collar on, of course). My problem is that our new neighbours also have a monster of a cat who seems bent on attacking anything that moves. This includes my cat as well as my husband. We have tried speaking with our neighbours on several occasions but they claim we are lying and refuse to tie him. Is there anything we can do short of getting a very large dog?_

_- C.L._

If the cat is being a true menace (likely, if he is bold enough to attack a human), you may wish to call your local animal control centre before one of your cats (or your husband) is seriously injured.

**You call that cat a menace, but you let one similar sleep in our bed on occasion? - M.**

_I believe most of London knows of Sherlock Holmes's slight substance problem... Are you ever worried that his brother will succumb to the same temptations? And do you tolerate Holmes's usage?_

_- A.I._

Mycroft is a very different man than Sherlock, and he has far fewer vices. He smokes only outside our home and he rarely drinks outside social settings, and when he does he is mindful of his limits. I do not believe he would ever take anything harder than cognac. As for Sherlock, I cannot control him, but I have made it quite clear I don't want any of his substances in the house. What he does in his own lodgings is his own business.

**I find even recreational drug use distasteful; too many people have made very unsuccessful careers with what started out as recreational. I do have faith that my brother will not be one of those people, however. - M.**

_This is a question that's caused a bit of a rift between my husband and myself. He is Protestant and I am Catholic, although neither of us attend services regularly. We would both like to attend Easter services, but we are up in arms about which church we should go to, mine or his. Is there anything in proper etiquette that dictates a solution to this?_

_- E.B._

As far as proper etiquette goes, a gentleman should attend whichever church his fiancée or wife wishes to attend. Practically speaking, however, if they are at different times you could attend them both, and if not you could each go to your own with someone else. Personally, I am attending Easter service with a friend and her family, as we've done for quite a number of years.

_I have a bit of a dilemma with a man I know. We are both members of the same choir, which has practices regularly during the week. And my sister is adamant that he has a "crush" on me, saying that he looks at me constantly, but always behind my back. I have never caught him doing this, but my sister insists that it is only because he is good at it, and looks away right as I am about to look at him. It irks me, because I somewhat admire him, and I want to be sure that he has the same feelings for me before I take any action to instigate a relationship._

_I guess the question is, how can I tell, for myself, if he likes me. If he does like me, how can I start a courtship in a way that will not scare him off? As you can probably tell, I don't have much experience with romantic relationships._

_- A.N.M._

The first thing you need to do is start a conversation with this man. You are actually quite lucky, as you already have a perfect topic; ask him about the music you are rehearsing, if he thinks you need improvement, simple things like that. Gauge his reaction; is he somewhat timid but welcoming to the conversation? Does he keep it going or branch off from the topic? Depending on what time you practise, you might hint at wishing to go to a certain café or restaurant, and if he offers to accompany you, that's a sure sign that he is interested.

_I'd always heard of holiday depression, but Easter generally isn't one you'd associate with it. This is my first holiday with my husband and his three children, all under twelve. They, of course, have their own traditions, and while my husband tries to include me I still miss my old traditions. My parents do not live near enough for a visit. Do you have any suggestions on how to at least appear happy?_

_- F.G._

One should not need to fake delight during a holiday. I would suggest that you introduce some of your own traditions to your new family. Children are always interested in something new, and then next year you will have a piece of your old life with you. I know how hard sudden relocation into a marriage can be, and I wish you all the best.

**elsewhere in London:**

He had not woken when she rose, but rather when he heard the running of the taps. He was not a deep sleeper, but she moved very quietly. 

"Ann...?" he called out, suppressing a yawn. A quick glance at the clock, illuminated by moonlight, told him that it was nearly two and too early to be in the world of the waking. "Ann, are you alright...?"

"Yes," replied a clear but somewhat weak voice from the water closet. "I suppose this hour must classify as morning."

It took his sleep-veiled mind a moment to put that one together. "Oh... Well, morning sickness is a misnomer to begin with, you know. It can come at any time of the day; morning is just the most common."

"Thank you for informing me now." She was trying to be bitter, he could hear it in her voice, but she rarely could manage such acidic tones even when she was entirely well. She really was horrible at intimidation.

Mycroft yawned, giving a slight stretch. "Are you alright now?"

"... Not quite yet. I feel restless anyway... I'm sorry I woke you, Mycroft."

"It's..." Another yawn. "It's nothing, really. Is there anything I can do?" While he comforted, he groaned inwardly of a night spent awake and the stack of work he knew awaited him the next morning.

"No, I..." There was a long pause but no other sound, indicating that she was merely composing herself rather than actually being sick. "Actually, I'd just rather be left alone... No offence, of course, but..."

"I understand." She was too dignified of a lady to want someone else witnessing her bent over and wretched like a young lord after a hard night. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I... I'm fine. Please, try to get back to sleep. You have work tomorrow."

She sounded genuine and so he closed his eyes, snapping them open a second later. It all seemed too easy... Women were known to talk in parables and the slightest of tones that could change the meaning of their words entirely. Ann Marie had never been one to do that, but there was a first time for everything and pregnant women were known to be especially emotional.

"You're _sure_ you don't want me to get up?" he ventured, wondering if her stance would change. As cruel as it was, he hoped not. The bed was warm and he felt weariness tugging at his form.

"I'm sure, Mycroft, really. Sleep. I know you need it."

She _sounded_ as if she truly wanted to be left alone, but did she in fact want him to dash to her side? Well, not exactly dash, but at least to go to her? He hardly wanted anyone around him when he was ill, but perhaps she wished to be comforted. And if he did go back to sleep, was she going to hate him in the morning and send him glares over the breakfast table? How on earth was he supposed to know, especially at this hour?

"Ann..." he called out into the darkness. "I'm not apt to this at the best of times, and it's too early for me to be fully alert... Is this one of those times where you are saying one thing but meaning the exact opposite? I know I'm not supposed to ask, but I'm a bit in the dark here."

"I'm telling the truth, Mycroft," she replied. Her tone was either one of endearment or annoyance; the two were vastly similar. "I wouldn't play those games with you."

Give it a few months.

"You're absolutely sure, are you? You won't seethe all night because I need to get some sleep?"

"I promise not to."

"... Maybe I should get this in writing."

"Go to _sleep_, Mycroft." Now it was most certainly annoyance.

He obeyed. She did not glare at him the next morning, so he supposed she had either been truthful with him or she was keeping it bottled up. He guessed the former; she was a terrible liar.

_AN: This week's bonus for submitting a question is a little "Things That Never Happened" snippet with Ann and Watson. As a teaser, all I will say is that it is the pit bull incident in "The Girl" if Ann and Mycroft had never married. Also, if anyone wants to make suggestions as to what they want to see in future elsewhere/bonus chapters, I'm all ears._


	23. XXII

__

I'm a very happily married woman with a boy, aged 6, and a girl, aged 4. I was 20 when my son was born and 22 when my daughter was born so the baby weight was very easy to lose. However, 2 months ago I gave birth to twins. As I am now 30 years old my metabolism is not what it used to be. My husband insists that this weight doesn't bother him (although he put it better) but I would still like any tips you have on how to lose it with 4 small children.

- D.B.S.

Usually, it's the smallest changes in lifestyle that can help a person reach their ideal body. Eating more fresh foods, such as replacing side dishes with salads and desserts with fruit, has numerous health benefits and almost always ends up being quicker to prepare than something baked. Activity is also important, and walks in the evening might also make your children tired enough to fall into bed without a fuss!

__

Is it better fashion-wise to have completely matching furniture, not everything of course, but at least the major pieces in a room, or go with a more eclectic style? I'm afraid if everything is too "matchy-matchy" my visitors might see me as rather vacuous.

Also, is Dr. Watson really as accepting of Sherlock's occasionally exceedingly rude behaviour as he seems?

- B.F.

Not everything in a room has to match exactly, but as long as the colour schemes are suiting then it is quite acceptable. The more "bohemian" look is coming a bit into style, but it depends on a person's taste.

Dr. Watson usually lacks the time to apologize and then reprimand. Accepting isn't quite the word; he abolishes his friend for it, but it never seems to do much.

__

My school friends and I recently reminisced about our times playing with Ouija boards, and trying to tell our futures by dripping candle wax into water. Did you ever have similar experiences in your schooldays?

- P.Y.

Although we used oil instead of candle wax to drip into water (there was one incident with a candle no one wanted repeated), I happened to be in a section of the dorms that was fortune-mad for a bit. I was never interested strongly in it, but it was often fun to play along. I don't think one of the predictions came true, however...

__

Is it true about what happened during the Three Garridebs incident? And is it the first time Dr. Watson has ever been hurt during the cases and Holmes has gotten emotional?

- R.T.

Watson was struck in the leg with a bullet during that case. I believe it was the most major injury either had sustained at the time of it, so perhaps Sherlock was more than a bit distraught. I do know that when Watson was mauled by a dog in one of his unpublished cases, Sherlock was shaking too badly to even tend to him. My brother-in-law does have an emotional side, but he attempts to bury it as deeply as he can.

****

How successfully he does this, of course, can often be called into question. - M.

__

I know that you are the owner of a Siamese cat. My sister owns one as well, and the animal insists upon squalling loudly every time she leaves the room and will not stop until she returns, which is often over an hour. Besides getting rid of the monster, which she refuses to do, is there any way to keep the animal from screaming or is that just in a Siamese's nature?

- K.S.

I don't think breeds of cats are naturally predisposed to any sort of personality any more than humans are, but because they are an expensive breed they are most likely to live in a well-off home and therefore more likely to be spoiled (Lord knows my own is). They are also very intelligent animals who get bored easily and must be occupied. Some solutions are to supply it with toys that hold its attention, or to get another cat to keep it company.

****

My suggestion would be to get rid of the monster. - M.

__

My husband and I have just moved into a new home, and the lady next door and I have become fast friends. She has recently confided to me that she is in an unhappy marriage and wants out. She has asked me for advice. I have strong reservations about divorce, I am against it, but do not wish to see her unhappy, nor to lose her friendship. What can you suggest?

- T.S.

Although I admit I do not like the thought of divorce, there are times when it is necessary. My advice is to merely be supportive of your friend's choice without voicing your opinion. Because of the social stigma attached to a divorced woman, it is likely she desperately needs to get out of the marriage and this is not just a passing whim.

__

I have an eight-year-old son who is quite bright, especially when it comes to grammar. Recently, I was horrified when my aunt was visiting and my son corrected her usage of a word. After I talked with him in private about how a child should not talk back to an adult, my husband insisted that he was polite about it and it was perfectly alright. What is your take on this?

- M.E.

Generally speaking (no pun intended), unless one is a teacher and the other is their pupil, one should not correct someone else's grammar or speech. It interrupts the person and generally seems insolent. Children should not do it to adults, but nor should adults do it to other adults.

****

That is a lesson Sherlock failed to learn in his youth and has failed to learn now. - M.

__

Have you ever considered taking up writing as a career? I know many young women who find it a worthwhile hobby. Although you might want to try something besides mysteries. There seems to be a sudden influx of those ever since Sherlock Holmes appeared on the scene. I think it's extremely rude of him to fill popular literature like that. Especially when the stories are usually bad.

- B.J.

I don't think I'm quite imaginative enough to write fiction, and my vocabulary, while adequate, is likely not up to the par of a writer's (Mycroft acts as my thesaurus the majority of the time). If I did write, however, I doubt it would be mystery; more likely something romantic. I have enough criminal cases in my real life.

****

elsewhere in London:

The sound of clacking keys greeted Mycroft when he came through the door several hours late and he gave a small frown. Although he had a typewriter in his study out of principal, he had never once used the thing. He believed them to be contraptions for people with bad penmanship, and he himself had a perfectly legible scrawl. Furthermore, the sound was not coming from his study, it was coming from the parlour.

He was not even sure why they still called it a parlour. Parlours, according to Ann Marie, were sitting rooms exclusive to ladies and family members. It was much too small for entertaining but not small enough to cast away, either. With the attic, they did not need storage space. Then when Ann had begun her column she had set up shop in there but the name remained. Mycroft asked her why she did not merely call it _her_ study. Apparently, however, men had studies and women had parlours. _His_ mother had had a study, but then he was thankful he had not married a woman anything like his mother.

Mycroft found the door open a crack and looked inside where the girl was seated at her desk, several sheets of neat type sitting beside the metal machine. There was a thesaurus and a dictionary beside her. "Since when have you enjoyed using a typewriter?"

The girl gave a jump, looking over her shoulder with a sheepish smile and rising. "Mycroft! What time is it?"

"Nearly eight. You need to get a clock in here. Please tell me you ate."

"I haven't eaten dinner yet. You know I hate eating dinner alone; it makes me feel like a young widower. I had some grapes..." She nodded towards the mostly untouched bowl beside the typewriter.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "You _need_ to eat, Ann. The first few months are vital."

"And Dr. Elsi said that I didn't need more than what I usually eat yet."

"But you're not eating until noon." He did not want to get into a fight, however, so he nodded towards the ponderous machine. "You never did answer my question. I take it you had trouble putting the ribbon in."

Ann Marie gave another bashful smile, hiding her ink-spotted fingers behind her back. "The maid finally had to put it in for me."

He arched a brow. She was not technically avoiding the question, but she was not answering it. "You have no particular dislike of the typewriter, but you have chosen not to use it up until this point. Your hands show no sign of carpal tunnel or anything else preventing you from writing. From this I gather you have one of two motives; you are either writing something in which you are required to type it, not for 'Companion' but for another press or something of the like, or you are typing something which requires you to remain anonymous, in which case you'll need to dispose of that ribbon afterwards. They hold the type, you know."

The smile turned to one of mirth as she moved in front of the papers, blocking his view of them. "And which do you think it is...?"

After leaving her so ill for the last many mornings, he was glad to see her in a playful mood. "No offence meant, but you truly lack the criminal mindset. I cannot think of any activities where you would need to protect your identity, and besides that, messages of the like are kept short and to the point. You already have several pages. Therefore, you're writing something that's required to be typed."

"And just what might that be?"

This he had to muse over for several seconds. "Your current publisher accepts handwritten material from their regular contributors because they have a large staff and therefore the time to transcribe it. They also know what your handwriting is like, in your case very neat, and they know they can read it. Therefore, this work is for someone who has a more limited time frame and budget. You barely have time for your column, so this likely is a one or two-off sort of deal. I'd say this is for a small journal, likely published by the editor themselves. You took the advice of one of your readers and wrote some short fiction, but for your own amusement. A small publication ensures you aren't linked to it."

"You..." she sighed, raising to her tiptoes as he bowed his head to kiss his cheek. "Are too clever for your own good."

"So I'm correct?" He already knew the answer. "May I read it?"

"No offence, of course, Mycroft, but... I'd rather if you didn't. Catherine offered to edit it for me, she's a regular contributor to the journal, and... Well, it's romantic, a genre you've never cared for."

"What you do in your spare time is your own domain," he replied with a shrug of his massive shoulders. He had no wish to wade through several pages of loving eyes and romantic speeches no one actually made. "Now come, you need to eat something besides two or three grapes."

"Go ask the maid to set the table, would you? I only want to finish this one bit. I won't be fit to talk to until I get it out of my system."

Normally he did not like dealing with the maid alone, he always got a sense of hostility radiating from her, he could not help but smile. Not quite his very own George Eliot, but he found her new ambition charming. "Alright. I'll come fetch you when it's ready."

She was already back at the machine, the keys making their subdued racket again.

He paused, halfway out the door. "Ann...? Just answer me this one thing; this isn't a story about the doctor and Sherlock, is it?"

"Mycroft, I can honestly say it is not."

"Good; he's down my neck enough as it is. Oh, and do pick a pen name with no connection to your usual one. Cryptography pseudonyms are rather cliché."

Ann Marie nodded, turning back to the paper before her.

__

"Holmes, I will not be undermined on this case!" Lestrade growled, patience worn as thin as rice paper as he rose, the motion flinging the chair backwards onto the ground with an echoing clatter.

"If Scotland Yard would start doing what they are supposed to do, then I would be quite out of a job, Inspector," the detective sighed, narrow lips set in a perpetual smirk. It did not ebb when the man grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him to his feet. "Temper, Inspector Lestrade..."

"You know as well as I do that without a warrant you'll never be able to convict him in a court of law. I want him to hang as much as you do, Holmes, but if we do not tread with care then he will walk a free man, free to kill again and again!"

"The two of us having something in common; something even I never anticipated." The smile spread across the lean, angular face as he leaned in closer, his whisper grazing the smaller man's ear. "Perhaps there is something else..."

The inspector's face paled to near white and he released his rival. He felt an urge to shove him away, but found he could not. "For once, Holmes," he spoke, fighting to keep his voice even. "You're wrong."

"This matter is not pivotal at the moment," replied Holmes, giving a soft chuckle that made the back of Lestrade's neck burn with a blush. "If you wish to recover the young lady alive, we'd best get going. Watson may meet us at the station, or he may be otherwise occupied."

Lestrade followed him from the room, keeping his distance from him. He hoped the doctor would meet them, for a long train ride in the man's company was not appealing. And yet, just why was it that his heart had been beating so fast merely from that brush of a whisper...?

"Ann," Mycroft called out from the dinning room. "The table's set."

"Coming!" she smiled, unrolling the latest page before storing the manuscript in one of the desk drawers and leaving to join her husband at the table.

__

AN: The bonus is a little piece about Ann Marie and her mother on the former's wedding day, largely because I realized that every chapter with her mother in it got cut in final drafts.


	24. XXIII

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My husband has a friend who, though he is never rude, has an air of vanity and arrogance that make me feel he is constantly looking down on me. Is there any way I can appeal to my husband to invite him less often without appearing to criticise this man, of whom I know him to be very fond?

- S.E.

If he is a good friend of your husband, there may not be much you can do to keep him from the house. You could encourage your husband to invite other, more tolerable, friends, but if you do not wish to state it directly you may wish to merely stay clear of him when he is visiting.

__

No doubt this will sound like a terribly rude question... My son has three young children, and quite frankly someone along the way failed to teach them manners. I could go on for days describing their behaviour, but I'll sum it up with the fact that they can't keep a nanny for more than three months. I've recently moved near them (my first mistake), and now that they are without a caregiver during the day (their mother doesn't work, she's merely too dedicated to the social scene), my daughter-in-law wants me to watch them nearly every day. I can't bring myself to insult my own grandchildren, but nor can I deal with the hellions so often.

- A.G.

Get involved in a society or a charity. Or perhaps two of them. The less free time you have, the more you can say to your "responsible" daughter-in-law "Oh, I'm so sorry... I'm not free any of those days."

__

Mrs. Holmes; I've been reading your column since it first began, and therefore I feel you may have the best answer to this question... I am a woman of a darker race but a very well-off family, and while this was not an issue in the small town my family had settled in, now that I have come to London where no one knows me, I know people stare and talk behind my back. I do not have any friends here. We moved because of my husband's work and therefore moving back is not an option. Do you have any advice on how to respond to people who condescend to me and treat me as if I were a servant?

- R.A.

My advice is simple; say nothing at all. Ignore this behaviour the best you can and know you are better than they think you are. While I may come from a very traditional family, my father was quite liberal and one of the strongest lessons he ever instilled in me was that the evil in the world lurks far deeper than the skin, and therefore ones race is no indicator of the kind of person they are. I hope you find a friend in this city. Please, do remember that not all Londoners are so cruel.

__

Considering who you are married to, I doubt this is ever a problem for you, but my husband is constantly forgetting things like our anniversary and my birthday. Is there a subtle way to remind him...?

- G.T.

A few days before the event, leave him a small note saying something along the lines of that it has almost been however many years together, or reminisce about the first birthday the two of you spent together. It's romantic, and hopefully he will get the hint.

__

I'm trying to find some new and exotic dishes to make for my husband and I, but he has a rather delicate stomach, and I'm afraid that everything will be more than he can handle. What do you suggest?

Also, is it true that Inspector Lestrade is as unobservant as Dr. Watson has written?

- T.S.

Recipes from China tend to be easier on spices than many other Oriental dishes and therefore may be a good bet. To be on the safe side, make small portions of new recipes before making a full-sized one to be sure he can tolerate it (and that you both enjoy it).

While Inspector Lestrade is not entirely useless at his job as Sherlock would state, I'm afraid he does pale in comparison to Sherlock and even Watson. But then, who doesn't?

****

I most certainly don't. - M.

__

My question has to do with a good friend of mine; his name is Edward and comes from a noble family whereas I come from a higher middle class family. We like each other very much but his family seems to think I'm only his friend to look better in society's standing. How can I convince them otherwise?

As Always, D.M.

Honesty is always the best policy; simply tell your friend's parents that you merely enjoy his company. Hopefully they will believe you. If not, simply grin and bear it. If they see you stay by his side even with their displeasure, they may begin to change their minds.

__

Do twins run in your family or your husband's? It is certainly something to be aware of, if not now then in the future.

- P.Y.

I can't recall any cases of twins in my own family history, and Mycroft says he has twins in his distant cousins. I'm hoping they run in families, because I think the first time around one child will be trying enough.

****

There's a set of twins prominent in the Holmes family history, but everyone has been trying to forget about them for years. - M.

__

I have become friends with a very kind young man recently and he has expressed interest in moving our friendship into courting, which I would like very much. The sole problem is that he was engaged less than a year ago and she left him in a way that hurt him very much and I can tell it still bothers him. Would you suggest delaying the courtship, or simply soldiering ahead?

- T.D.

If both of you feel you are ready for a courtship, there is no reason to delay it. My suggestion, rather, would be to take it as slow as need be. The early stages of courtship are not unlike a friendship, and therefore it would allow you to ease into romance while your friend deals with his emotional issues. I wish you both all the best.

****

elsewhere in London:

"I'm sorry I didn't send a message ahead," Mycroft sighed as Ann Marie took his jacket from him. "I just became so wrapped up with a new employee, and..."

"You're half an hour late, Mycroft. Just because I could set a watch by you doesn't mean I do. Dinner's not even ready yet." She could not help but smile, however, at his earnestness. Life was not as inflexible as his schedule, much to his dismay.

He returned her smile before taking the box from his pocket and pressing it into her hands. "Still, accept my apologies. I know they're your favourites." He was expecting thanks. What he got was a glare.

"Mycroft, you _know_ I'm trying to watch what I eat," she murmured, handing the box of chocolate-covered cordial cherries back to him. "I'm gaining weight as it is."

"Because you're _pregnant_," replied the man, restraining an exasperated sigh. "Not to mention you're not even showing yet! Besides, one won't do you any harm."

She murmured something, turning her back to him but not entirely.

Mycroft had a feeling these were the mood swings he had heard so much about. "Ann, look, I know this is likely hormones at the moment..."

"It is _not_ hormones..."

"But when it comes down to it, what's more important; a perfect figure or a healthy child?"

"I eat perfectly well, Mycroft," she sniffed, crossing her arms. "I'm just not indulging in chocolates."

Logic had failed. He should have expected it, to be honest. Reasoning around a situation like that was near impossible. "Suit yourself, then." He opened the lid, removing one. "You don't mind if I have one?"

"It's a free country, partially thanks to you."

"Point taken..." He sank his teeth into the sweet. "Are you sure you don't want one? They really are excellent. The best brand out there, and there's a perfect chocolate to cherry ratio. It just seems a bit of a waste, seeing how you adore them and all."

When she turned her head, he was holding one at face level towards her. She gave a scowl that she meant to be frightening but she knew would likely turn out as an endearing pout. There were times when she despised her own good nature. "This has to be some form of spousal abuse."

"That's what you get for marrying a stranger. Do you want it, or do I have to toss it in the bin?" He could see the conflict on her face and smiled broadly when she finally snatched it from his hand.

"I'm going to check on dinner," she murmured, heading off to the kitchen nibbling on the treat.

"We can have the rest with tea this evening!" he called after her, almost able to feel her scowl. He chuckled to himself as he closed the box. This was not his usual use of his negotiating powers, but it was far more fun.

__

AN: The bonus this week is two "Things That Never Happened" drabbles. The first I blame Pompey and her dogs entirely for. The second is just as AU and is titled "Seahorse"; gather from that what you will.


	25. XXIV

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My friend who is getting married has asked me to be her maid of honour, which I have accepted. As such she asked me to help decorate and organise the wedding details; however, her mother is very defensive and resents my interference. What would you suggest I do to please both daughter and mother's wishes?

- K.S.

First of all, I would not try to hinder your friend's mother. The wedding is mainly the responsibility of the bride's mother, and she seems to be taking this duty very seriously. I suggest that you get on her good side, perhaps by encouraging some of her ideas, and mainly work on things she has not tended to. If the mother becomes too aggressive, however, you may wish to ask your friend to speak with her.

__

My brother and his wife recently adopted two children, and I think they made the wrong choice. The two are very quiet and skittish and rarely look anyone in the eye. Personally, I think they're being a bit ungrateful to the people who took them in. Is there any way to approach my brother about this issue, or should I bite my tongue?

- A.L.

The latter. Many children coming from orphanages have either had very little love or a lot of hate, usually both, and it takes time to adjust to a more normal lifestyle. They will likely come out of their shells in time, but until then they should be given some space. I do not think people adopt to be appreciated, they do it to bring comfort to a child.

****

And the people who do adopt to be appreciated shouldn't be permitted to. - M.

__

Recently a friend of mine has stopped speaking to me. I am moving away from the area soon, and I want to talk to her but she refuses to do so and even goes so far as to avoid me! What do I do?

And also...this may be a bit of a personal question, but is it really true that Dr. Watson's wife died in childbirth?

- R.T.

Your friend may be reacting to your moving; she may feel that if she cuts the ties now, the parting will be easier. If she will not talk to you, write her a letter explaining how you wish to remain close to her once you leave. Hopefully she will read it and respond.

Mrs. Watson died of a cancer.

__

Dear Mrs. Holmes, I was wondering, has your brother-in-law ever had any trouble during his investigations due to his fame? Doctor Watson's stories are extremely popular, after all.

- S.E.

There actually was an incident where Holmes was in disguise at a bar attempting to discreetly inquire about a lady thief he was on the trail of. The bartender recognized him and announced him loudly to the entire establishment and his mark slipped out from under his thumb. It was actually fairly recent, and he was quite mad over that... Dr. Watson says he did not speak to him for nearly two days.

****

Sherlock always was one to sulk. I merely wish he had extended the two days so that Dr. Watson could get a true vacation. - M.

__

My son is at that age where he's just learning to read, but I'm not certain what books are considered appropriate for his age and reading level. Do you have any suggestions?

Also, did Sherlock and your husband have any favourite books as children?

- T.S.

"A Child's History of England" by Mr. Charles Dickens is a longstanding favourite with most children, as is the quick classic "Alice in Wonderland" (although I never quite liked it). Children's poetry is ideal for those just starting to read because of its simplicity, and authors such as Mr. Edward Lear write mainly for children.

Sherlock's favourite book as a boy was "King Lear", and Mycroft's was "Geology and Mineralogy considered with reference to Natural Theology". I am starting to wonder just what I will be reading my own child to sleep to...

****

Best to practise your Latin, just in case. - M.

__

Has your brother-in-law Sherlock Holmes expressed his preference for a niece or nephew? (Of course the end result is completely out of his hands; I'm only curious as to which gender he would prefer to be an uncle to.)

- P.Y.

Being the misogynist that he is, Sherlock has made it perfectly clear that he would prefer a boy. As you've said, however, it's not up to him or anyone else. Thankfully. While I only wish for a healthy child, I would not at all mind a little girl...

****

I may be the only person who simply doesn't care. - M.

__

I have a brother I will not name who has a sense of humour that often goes, shall we say, over the top? He plays pranks on anyone in his sight and some of them are funny to only him. Recently, he thought it would be hilarious to take out an obituary for himself. Friends and relatives out of our area actually thought he was dead and are planning to travel here at great expense to be with us "at this difficult time". My brother has forbidden me to tell them the truth and I do want to obey him, but surely this isn't right...

- B.L.

It isn't. This is taking advantage of the emotions of the people closest to your brother, and if he does not see that is wrong, it is up to you to do it. Write to your relatives. If you do not wish your brother to find out, also request that those you write to say they heard it from another source.

__

My husband has been trying to expand his vocabulary in order to sound more intelligent, but the problem is when he uses the words he reads, he mispronounces them or sometimes uses them completely out of context, usually causing embarrassment. Would it crush him terribly if I corrected him once in a while?

- W.D.

If you do it gently and not in a scolding manner, corrections will help his goal to seem more literate (much more so than mispronunciations). Do it in private, however; no one likes to be corrected in front of peers.

****

elsewhere in London:

"Can I ask you something…?" Ann Marie asked voice tentative as she placed the tea tray between them in the sitting room. "About your pregnancy, I mean."

Rose gave a nod that was just as timid. "I suppose."

"You're five and a half months along, so… Have you felt it yet? The baby, I mean?"

The dark woman shook her head, a cross between a smile and a frown on her face. "No, not yet. I should soon, though. My doctor said so, in any case. My doctor from back home. I haven't found one in London yet." She did not mention that she had inquired at several practices and had been denied as a client. Her husband was content enough with government doctors, but she was not.

The younger one of them heard the unspoken words. "Before you go, I'll give you Dr. Elsi's calling card. He treats me, and he's mentioned he has some open spots. I know some people won't go to a Jewish doctor under threat of death, but…"

"I'm hardly one to avoid a doctor on that basis," sighed Rose, taking a sip of the tea. "… This is every bit as good as people say you make it. What's your secret?"

"I wish people would believe that I have no secret… It's merely one of my few talents. You must have your own; you mentioned you danced?"

Her dark cheeks flushed at this. "Like I said, not professionally. My mother was a professional ballerina and she taught me at home. I don't have the nerve to perform, truth be told, and I wouldn't be good enough anyway."

"I'd doubt that. You're so… graceful!" Ann Marie beamed. "You have those long legs… You carry yourself with so much dignity, even with our… condition."

"It's really not so bad," Rose attempted to assure, not able to restrain a smile.

"Easy for you to say; you're a good head taller than me."

"From what you say of him in your columns, I doubt Mr. Holmes would mind," she pointed out, wondering if the act of adoration was a mere front. "Or is he… different?"

"Oh, no! He's the kindest man you'll ever know. I know he won't care a mite, but…" She sighed, running her finger along the edge of the tea saucer. "I like to be beautiful for him. He does so much and I can do so little else."

Rose smirked, bowing her head a bit to hide it. "You're giving him a child; should that not be enough?"

Mycroft Holmes was not going to place Michael Abbot on his personal team; he wished him to remain at Whitehall, and placing the poor man in with his own underlings would drive him away in days. Instead, however, he was the new head geologist, and one he considered himself lucky to acquire.

"We really must introduce our wives," Mycroft mentioned. "Ann's other close friends are a bit… immature, and it must be good to talk with a woman who is… Well, who is going through a similar experience."

Michael Abbot was not a particularly tall man, and therefore was dwarfed by his new employer (though to be fair, his wife was taller than him when she wore high boots). In his early thirties, there was still that enthusiasm he hoped Whitehall would not suck out of him. His skin was almost light enough to be half white, not helped by his chestnut hair. "I agree, Mr. Holmes. Rose hasn't taken to London all that well. A friend could make all the different. Besides, she's a fan of hers. Every week I here what Mrs. Holmes says about what."

The portly man chuckled, shaking his head. "This is the same woman who can't find the sugar dish when it's right under her nose." He pushed open the door to his house. "Ann...? I was wondering if you'd mind a third for dinner. I'd like you to meet..."

"Mr. Abbot, I know." The girl emerged from the sitting room, followed by the dark woman. "Rose said he was coming. I hope you don't mind a fourth?"

Mycroft shook his head slowly, restraining a sigh. He had no idea how the society of women worked that way, and he truly had no wish to find out.

__

AN: Sorry for the shortness; posting this post-birthday party. I am now part of the voting public, so beware, Stephen Harper! The bonus is a little piece with Mycroft and his mother, set shortly after "When the Clock Stops".


	26. XXV

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I am to be married in several months, and I am stuck with a bit of a problem. My father died a number of years ago and my mother never remarried, my other siblings are sisters, and I have no close male relatives. I am at a loss as to who is to walk me down the aisle. I would rather not do it alone... What does etiquette say in this situation?

- A.B.

A man does not have to be a blood relative to escort you down the aisle; there may be a friend, a mentor, or even a friend's husband or brother you wish to share the honour with. If a male is not an option, however, it would not be entirely unheard of if your mother escorted you.

__

Your husband seems like such a kind and gentle person that I cannot help wonder if he ever loses his temper. Do you two ever fight? Does he fight with his brother?

- S.K.

Mycroft does not have much of a temper; it takes a great deal to agitate him, let alone anger him. We do have the occasional spat, every couple does, but when we do we mostly just give each other the cold shoulder rather than hollering at one another. He does get rather angry at the cat, however... Sherlock is one of the sole people he really fights with, and when they get into it it's best just to leave them be.

****

There are only two types of people in the world worth hollering at; younger siblings and politicians. I have to deal with both. - M.

__

Firstly, congrats on the wonderful news. Does your brother-in-law have any preference for a name for the child? Do you plan to have any more children?

Oh, one more question, have you, your husband, your brother-in-law, or Watson ever traveled to the British empire's colonies in the Orient and, if so, how was it there?

- C.S.

Sherlock keeps insisting that Aphaea is the perfect name on the "off chance" it will be a girl, but I think I'd prefer something a little easier to pronounce... He agrees with Mycroft Sigerson for a boy, however. We have decided to wait until the first is born to plan for more children; I would like more, but Mycroft believes being an only child would be heaven on earth.

****

There may be a reason Sherlock and I were spaced out; the concentration of the family needs to be spread out a bit. - M.

Mycroft visited the Orient briefly when he was younger, and he said that while it was an endlessly interesting place, he could not stand the sun.

__

My husband's father had abandoned him long before our marriage, but he has recently come back into his life. While I know my husband has the right to live his own life, I want nothing to do with the man who left his wife and four children high and dry. Must I play nice with this man, or is there any way to politely keep him out of my life?

- H.K.

While you do need to meet him, you do not need to like him. Treat him as you would a business associate of your husband's; politely but not affectionately. Your husband needs your support at the moment, not your judgement. Prove yourself more mature than your father-in-law by acting like an adult.

__

I happen to be blind, and have been since birth. I usually have no problems and I have adapted (for instance, having my husband write correspondences such as this), but I have one acquaintance who thinks I need her hand at my elbow whenever she is present. This is actually quite disorienting, not to mention a breach of personal space. What is the best way to ask her to refrain (short of putting an elbow in the general direction of her face)?

- R.H.

I would not recommend an elbow to the face, no matter how much you think she deserves it... Explain to her firmly how you feel when you are dragged about like that, and perhaps explain things she can do to help you that do not hinder you. It seems as if she genuinely wishes to help; if you give her another way to do so, the urge to do her harm should cease.

__

I have been invited to a ball by my good friend Edward, and I can't help but think he fancies me. I do admire him greatly, and his family is coming around towards me being seen with him and all. Should I ask him directly if he fancies me or should I wait and see?

One last question, you have stated before who your favourite authors are. What do you think of the women writers such as Jane Austen and Mary Shelly?

Best Wishes,  
- D.M.

I would observe how he acts at this ball; a social setting such as that is usually the best to pick up hints. If he considers it important that his family be comfortable with you, however, it looks likely that he does fancy you.

My favourite author, George Eliot, was originally christened Mary Ann Evans, so I quite enjoy woman authors. I have read several of Jane Austen's books and enjoyed them. As for Mary Shelly, however, even her non-horror novels scare me a bit...

****

She got through the first three chapters of "Frankenstein" and only through the first chapter of "Matilda". - M.

__

I am a working woman and recently married. While my husband's income could support us both fully at the time, my own income makes living a bit more comfortable. Once we have children or his salary increases, I do plan to stop working, but all my friends (and my mother especially) seem to insist it isn't proper for a married woman to work. What do you say?

- L.R.

I say that in this modernizing society, a woman's career is up to herself. If this arrangement works best and both you and your husband agree on it, I see nothing harmful in it.

__

My stepdaughter has had a very low self-esteem since the time I met her up until now. Many of her "friends" take advantage of this, treating her poorly because they know she will not stand up against them. It hurts me to see her cringe in every kind of social situation. Is there anything I can do to help her foster a little confidence? She really is quite pretty, but she seems to be the last one to notice this.

- G.S.

I would suggest leading by example; take her places with you and assert yourself so that she can see how to be confident. Perhaps introduce her to the children of your friends or have her attend some drawing room gatherings or balls. Believe me, nothing makes a girl feel more beautiful than her very first ball gown. Also, have a frank talk with her about these "friends" of hers, and try to make her see that there are better companions out there for her.

__

Being as I am alone most of the day in the home and sometimes at night, I'd like to get a dog for both protection and companionship, but I do not wish to spend a king's ransom on one. I also would like one who is big enough to be intimidating, but calm enough so that my drapes are not in danger...

- L.F.

I would suggest a greyhound; they are tall dogs but when well-trained, they are remarkably mature. A recent trend has been to adopt retired racing hounds; usually they are free to anyone who wants them. A pet can make all the difference in someone. I know I'd be bored so often if it weren't for my cat.

****

elsewhere in London:

The package was not postmarked and had been left with the maid by a young man who, based on the woman's description, resembled one of the brothers Mycroft has last seen at the wedding. He wanted to open the album, but he knew he would need his wife's permission if he were to do so without guilt.

When she returned home from visiting, it occupied their evening. Mycroft could not help but smirk at pictures of her at the age of five, drowning in lace and posing as perfectly as a porcelain doll. Twelve years old and not looking at all like herself; almost grey and sickly. She had mentioned a year of respiratory trouble, but had not thought it serious.

She had quietly commented they had the picture taken because they believed it would be her last one and turned the page as quickly as she could.

Her face became more healthy and recognizable as the years passed. Her first school picture, drawing back hair and the uniforms he knew had been green with the pin on the collar. One from a studio in Paris; he could see the infamous scenery out the window behind her. She described Italy and France as she had seen them, traveling with the maiden aunt who financed her when her father had begun to slip.

A group of girls preparing to be debutants. Mycroft could pick out Emily (glasses removed to prevent a glare) and Fiona. He knew Catherine was a year older, having failed one year. Her début in the Guthrie manor, the home of Fiona lent by her gracious father ("He was sometimes more of a father than my own," Ann Marie commented with a sigh). Her golden hair, grey in the picture, down her shoulders, her white dress more revealing than the wedding dress she would wear in less than a year.

Her graduation picture; he could see her engagement ring and he sighed. Little posed moments, each of them exact because photographs were so costly. Turning back to the one of the five-year-old girl with the sweet face and heartbreaking curls, he frowned.

"Something wrong...?" questioned his wife, placing a hand on his cheek. The hour was growing late, and her eyelids were starting to drop.

He closed the album, shaking his head, covering his wriggling feeling with a smile. "Merely hoping our child looks like you. Come, we should retire.

He did not state that there was something in that photograph that felt familiar...

****

elsewhere in London (minus thirteen years):

"How are your studies coming along?" questioned Mycroft, twenty-eight and wearing a new jacket, bought with his recent rise in pay. No one had expected the prodigy from the accounting division to present the strategy that had kept the Germans at bay. He could not help but wonder, however, if he should have put his name on that proposal; he did not like disturbance, and this had caused a great deal of it.

"Oh... They're coming..." his brother murmured over his cup of tea. "I keep wondering if I shouldn't just..."

"Sherlock, stop right now. We've had this talk. Father and Mother have had this talk as well. Finish university, and then if you want to turn playing detective into a career, feel free to do so. A wise trapeze artist does not work without a net, however."

The lanky man grumbled, rolling his steely eyes. "I know, I know. I'm just anxious, Mycroft! I know you can't understand needing to have activity in your life, but _I_ do!"

"If you have so much excess energy, take up something."

"Something like what? I fence and box, once would think I had no energy left!"

"I don't know, Sherlock. Sketching? Music? Cleaning your room every so often? I swear, I go to that flat expecting to observe microevolution between the kitchen counter and the table..."

"Music, hmm...?" Now that his brother mentioned it, once of his classmates was selling one of his older violins for a good price. Surfacing from his thoughts, the younger brother spotted something and smiled. "I believe you have a fan, Brother."

Mycroft looked over and then down to where a tiny fey of a girl was standing, doll clutched in her arms, looking up at him with wide brown eyes. Judging by her expensive clothes and toy, she was some aristocrat's child.

"You're tall," she commented softly.

Mycroft's eyes narrowed threateningly.

The child gave a squeak, dashing off towards what seemed to be her nanny, golden girls bouncing after her. Her caretaker glared at the two men as she took the girl's hand and stormed out of the café.

"Oh, be nice to the girl," smirked Sherlock, sipping at the cup. "She's just going to grow up and be married off to some clod her father picks out for her.

His brother murmured something and then was silent.

__

AN: The bonus is a little flashback to the "respiratory illness" mentioned above; a little piece of Ann Marie's little-discussed history.


	27. XXVI

_I am about to celebrate my twentieth birthday, and I have been thinking for a little while now of marriage and children. I am acquainted with many worthy gentlemen, but most of them are already courting other young ladies, and the ones who are not seem not to notice me. I am painfully shy when it comes to men, and tend to avoid social occasions whenever possible, which I realise is a large part of the problem. Do you have any suggestions on how I might overcome this shyness, and how I might attract the attention I seek without seeming too forward?_

_Also, I have had ambitions since childhood of becoming a writer, and after reading your column (specifically your response to a question in the last instalment where you mentioned how fond you are of several women authors), I see that it might truly be possible. Have you any advice that would be helpful to an aspiring author? I would also value Dr. Watson's input on this subject, if it would be possible for you to consult him._

_-N.S._

Drawing room parties are the best place to meet people; you don't necessarily need to have been invited, only acquainted with the host or hostess. If this is too much too soon, attend smaller gatherings. At any gathering, do not be afraid to talk to someone, as many men are usually just as shy with women. Merely remember that men are people as well, and talk to them as if you would anyone else. Talk about anything of interest, books or plays and the like, until something catches in the conversation that you have in common. As long as you do not lower yourself to revealing clothes or heavy makeup, I doubt you will seem too forward.

My advice to a woman wanting to get into literature is to keep your work varied and to submit a sample of your writing to many different publishers. If you don't succeed at first, keep trying. It may also help to start with smaller publications and work your way up. Dr. Watson recommends that before submitting to a publisher to examine the work they already publish and gauge if your writing would interest the genre they work with.

_I have heard rumours that you have taken up writing fiction. While I realize that you said in an earlier issue of "The Constant Companion" that you did not plan to write anything besides your column, I would still like to hear from you yourself whether there is any truth to this._

_- S.E._

At the moment, I barely have the time to write my column (as my long-suffering editors know...), and while I do not have plans to write fiction in the near future, if I ever do, "Constant Companion" readers will be the first to know.

**I like to think I'd be the first to know, but apparently some things are only appreciated by women... - M.**

__

I've been a so-called "royal watcher" for most of my life (as I grew up quite near one of the palaces). I know your husband must have some contact with the royal family, but have you ever met Queen Victoria or any of her children?

- F.B.

I actually did meet our Queen and her consort briefly during a very official event. It was early on in my marriage, and I nearly fainted when she addressed me by name and told me I had married a difficult, but not impossible, man. I'd never seen Mycroft turn that colour of red before, and I doubt I ever will again.

**And I hope never to see you that shade of white again, as it so happens. - M.**

__

I have a friend from France who visits often, and when we meet other French people she carries on a conversation with them in French even if all parties speak English. Understandably, I feel a little left out. Is it polite to ask them to speak in English?

- C.V.

If you don't speak French and they speak English, it is entirely rude for them to leave you out of the conversation. Even if they do not, your friend might act as a translator. Politely request that they translate or speak in English when this occurs. Another option is to begin learning French. I speak it myself; it was one of my few good subjects in school.

__

This may be a bit of a private question, but I thought that another female might be able to answer it best. My wife recently had major illness and she was lucky enough to recover fully, even though the doctors had predicted she would not even live. After several surgeries, however, she has become very self-conscious of her body. I could not care less about her appearance; it is merely a blessing she is still with me? Other than the empty assurance, what can I do to make her see she is still beautiful?

- J.L.

Your letter truly is touching; it's wonderful to know that there are men who see past a woman's face and body. You must understand one thing, and that's that women are rarely rational when it comes to our appearances (as anyone who has ever been an expecting father can tell you). Rather than just telling her your attraction has not faded, show her. Be romantic, take her to dinner, buy her flowers. Pointless romance, yes, but it makes a woman feel wonderful.

****

They admit they are illogical and do nothing to correct it. Some further advice; when everything else fails, tempt a woman with chocolate. Their wills will bend like clay. - M.

I hate to disagree with Her Highness, but sometimes you really are impossible.

__

Both my husband and I are excellent artists, and my daughter, nearly six, has shown the beginnings of talent as well. The problem is that she has no interest in formal lessons of any kind! I'm sure her skills would improve greatly if she was taught, but she all but refuses? Is this a bit of a lost cause, or is there any way to encourage her?

- P.A.

If it is the formal lessons she has disinterest in, might I suggest giving her informal lessons? You or your husband could spend a bit of time with her teaching her how to harness her talent. If she is interested in drawing, she will take to it. If not, you should see merit in her other gifts.

__

Have you any advice on how to decorate a nursery when one does not know the  
sex of the coming child?

- P.Y.

As there's no way to predict the gender of an unborn child (despite the many, many theories that exist), many chose to simply decorate after the birth. I can see the reasons why one would do it beforehand, however. Once the baby is born things are much more hectic. Neutral colours are ones best bet; peach, light yellows and greens are acceptable for either gender, and furniture that is in between stylish and purely practical will suit either sex as well.

__

I'm looking into working at Whitehall, and although my mother has informed me that those types of jobs are looked down upon I still want to work for the government that has been kind to me. So should I look into getting a job there or should I look somewhere else?

- D.M.

Whitehall actually hires many women from many fields, and their pay in many positions is more than other offices. Mycroft claims this is because the government is attempting to be more progressive and supportive of women, but his co-workers have told me this is because their turnover rate is so high, if they did not hire women they would be short-staffed.

**Untrue. We would not be short-staffed, merely staffed with many under-qualified employees. - M.**

__

Do you have any how to get a stain out of white brocade? I bought the dress second-hand so I have no idea how it got there. Please help.

- B.J.

In general, most stains can come out with a good soak in carbonated water. If it proves to be more stubborn, however, you may want to try steaming it out. If the entirely of the fabric is white or light coloured, you may which to try peroxide or bleach.

****

elsewhere in London:

Dr. Robert Elsi had a very respectable office. He was a tidy man, and his organization usually assured patients that he was not about to forget something important when it came to their medical care. He also kept it very clean; nothing in the building should seem anything less than sterile, whether it be his scalpels or his pens.

"Well," he spoke, writing down the notes in the file that used to be under Chaplin, AM but was now under Holmes, AM. "Everything's coming along just fine. You're a bit underweight, but not by much. Your nutrition seems adequate. We should be hearing a heartbeat in a few weeks, actually."

"A few weeks?" questioned the woman (although she was little more than a girl), looking rather surprised.

"Yes, Mrs. Holmes. It will be the three month mark soon, and that's usually when the heartbeat is picked up if one is patient enough. I'm told I'm quite good at finding them, so we should be able to hear it." That was one of the two things he was known for among his fellow doctors. The other was stopped haemorrhaging during surgery. He was more proud of the second, but he got more smiles from the first.

Mr. Holmes cleared his throat, sounding a bit uncomfortable. He likely was. This was the second appointment he had came to, not because of apathy but because of his work schedule. In Elsi's experience, all first-time fathers felt awkward. Many second-time fathers did as well. "I've, er... Well, they say the first birth is the hardest..."

"Not always true, but it is the usual case." He removed his glasses, folding his hands. Bad news was never enjoyable to deliver. "Mrs. Holmes, I do want you to be prepared for a difficult birth. This is your first child, you are quite young, and your hips are rather narrow. Added to that is your ether allergy..."

She nodded, eyes falling to her lap. She had discovered that when she had been twelve and they had tried to cease some of her coughing, and she had a violent reaction to only a small amount. Using it to dull birth pain would not be an option.

"This doesn't mean you should worry," he continued quickly. "I have many years of experience, as you well know, and so far things are coming along ideally. I merely want you to be prepared."

"I've... I've been looking at books..."

The blush burning on her face was enough to tell him what kind of books. "Mrs. Abbot mentioned something of the sort."

"Her father got them in the Orient. Do they really help?"

"Many women who have practised Oriental exercises before their labour and breathing techniques during have reported that their pain lessens. It cannot hurt to do them." He smiled, hoping he looked amiable. He usually did, but it was especially important not to scare a young mother with the unknown. "I believe you will do fine, Mrs. Holmes. You fought back that respiratory illness; that lasted longer than any labour ever has."

The couple stopped at a café before returning home. Mycroft finally gathered up the courage to ask something he had been wondering about for quite some time.

"Ann? How bad was that illness?"

"Bad," she replied with a sigh over her cup of mint tea. "They made me comfortable for death at one point. Oh, honestly... Do you see that pair in the corner? I don't know why people have to express affection by touching one another like that in public."

This was coming from the harpy who had roused him in the early morning hours...

"Mycroft, do me a favour. If I ever come up with some kind of pet name for you, simply put me out of my misery."

The rotund man sighed as he averted his gaze from the very persistent young couple. "Only if you do the same."

_AN: The bonus is two of the "Ten Things You Didn't Know" lists; one about Ann Marie and the other about the Whitehallians. _


	28. XXVII

_My son has recently turned six years old and he still carries a security blanket. Every time my husband and I try to take it away from him he goes into such hysterics that he actually has difficulty breathing for some time. Other than these outbursts, he is a perfectly well-behaved child, but he still refuses to part with the blanket. Do you have any suggestions?_

- T.S.

Weaning him off it might be better than just taking it away outright. Begin with insisting he leaves it at home when you go out (and merely leave him at home if he refuses), and then gradually move on to only allowing him to keep it in his room. It is likely this is simply a phase, however; I've looked after the siblings of a friend of mine, and they so often grow out of those habits.

_My husband owns his own business, and recently a friend of mine referred several clients to him. If these clients do business with him, what is the proper way to thank my friend? A referral fee seems so distant for close friends._

_- B.B._

According to Mycroft, if there was to be a referral fee, it should have been discussed up front. If you want to thank your friend, do so by treating her to dinner, or perhaps sending her a gift basket of some kind._  
_

_Does your husband know how to play any musical instruments?  
_

_In a public situation, how would one deflect any unwanted attention from  
the opposite sex when one wishes to be polite and not make a scene?_

_- C.S._

He says he courted the piano briefly and then abandoned it for studies of macroevolution, which hardly surprises me...

**Your friends have outlined your (lack of) success with music, so I hold no hopes of our offspring becoming the next Mozart. - M.**

The best way to cut off the conversation is to spot someone you know, say you simply _must_ tell them about something, and bid them goodbye. If there is no one you are familiar with present, if the situation is bad enough you can simply walk away with an excuse of an appointment somewhere. A more subtle method, however, is simply hinting to them that you are uncomfortable with their attention. Most men do not want to make a scene, either, and will back away. If they do not, a more outward warning is needed.

_When you were young, was there any person you looked up to and admired? Do you still have an idol?_

_- S.E._

This may sound foolish, but I think my idol has always been the Queen. It amazed me how she could run an entire country and still retain her ladylike demeanour. Nowadays, I find myself idolizing Dr. Watson as well; he must be a saint to tolerate Sherlock nearly twenty-four seven.

**Or he will one day have had enough and kill everyone in sight. - M.**

_My daughter has been deaf since birth, but she is a remarkably clever girl and with a bit of therapy has learned to read lips. The trouble is that people do not seem to recognize that reading lips means she can tell just what a person is saying, cursing included. Could you _please_ inform your readers that a handicap isn't an excuse to do things around a child that you normally wouldn't? _

_- J.L._

I do not think your friends should be swearing in front of a lady to begin with. I hope my readers remember that many children with impaired hearing or vision may have enough ability to know what you are saying are doing. Please be courteous, and for parents, simply asking someone to refrain from questionable behaviour around children should be enough to stop them.

_My husband and I often go out to our favourite restaurant for a quiet night alone (something rare with three children under the age of six). The problem is, one of his cousins is there quite often, usually sitting at a table with endless cups of coffee, and whenever he spots us there he joins our table and dominates the conversation. Between the children and him, he gives us the bigger headache. Should we try to deter him, or simply find a new restaurant?_

_- G.B._

Try explaining to him that you come to the restaurant to be alone with one another. Making him uncomfortable shouldn't be ruled out. If all fails, however, you may want to find a new place to frequent.

_I have been wondering this for a while; at a wedding when the priest asks if anyone objects to the marriage, can the marriage actually be stopped if someone does object? I only ask because I am to be married in two months and I have a bitter history with some of my relatives..._

_- N.G._

This is a tradition dating back to when a wedding was one of the few times would gather, and the only reasons then to protest a wedding was if one of the involved had been previously married or if the two were related by blood. Does it legally stop the wedding to stand up? No. As it can ruin the day, however, I suggest you talk with your relatives beforehand and ask them not to make a scene.

_I know this will sound like a silly question, but is it improper to be married to a man shorter than you are? I'm fairly tall, and a man who is courting me is somewhat short. I feel great affection for him, but my mother says it will be foolish. Any advice?_

_- S.T._

If you love him, marry him. I do not believe there are any martial laws dictating that a couple must have similar heights.

**Thankfully for our own marriage. - M.**

**elsewhere in Oxfordshire:**

Violet Holmes did not take the train straight from Moscow to London; she took a brief stop at a bed and breakfast in the town she had once called her home first.

The small gallery where she had met her husband was much bigger now. They had invited her mother to a gala, being the sister of Vernet, and she had been dragged along. She was awkward at the age of nineteen; too tall and slightly sharp of face. She preferred her books to social gatherings. She had sulked in her new gown until she had tripped and fallen face first onto the ground.

The young man who picked her up was blushing, bespectacled, and stammering out apologies as quickly as he could. She had thought him an art student at first, but then, he had been dressed to finely. Not a student of art but of agriculture, but an enthusiast of Vernet. He too was a bit awkward; gangly with his black hair unable to be defeated by a brush.

Violet could not retrain a smile at the memory. She had been planning to give the boy an earful, but when she met his eyes, she could not even tell him that the fall had chipped one of her back teeth (that cheek was swollen for a week afterwards).

How on earth had they managed to stay in love? Two towns and four parents had separated them, not to mention the fact that he was an optimistic art lover and she was a very grounded student of physics. But lo and behold, when both returned to university in the fall, they shared a core mathematics program.

_Oh, how Mother hated his family... _she mused as she stopped into a small shop (she had purchased her wedding flowers at that shop). _But could I blame her? _I _hated his family; he was the only decent one among them up until the point that Sherrinford was born._

She had often felt like she had four children instead of two; her husband's niece and nephew had lived with them after they were mercifully orphaned. Sherrinford had been a personality entirely opposing her own, but he was not a bad child, and he was one of the few people able to wretch Mycroft from his books. Adelaide... She had sworn sometimes that the girl was an evil changeling, but she merely stayed out of her way. As she had with all four of them until that night...

_Until that night Mycroft very nearly died,_ her mind filled in for her, and a shudder passed through her body. She was disgusted with the memories of herself that night. She had somehow only just realized that pushing her son away from her was doing neither of them a favour. _I was never a proper mother to him, but after that night I tried. ... Didn't I...?_

How could she judge herself against their lifestyles? Sherlock was as erratic now as he had been at the age of ten, but now he was being paid for his deductions and causing chaos. In fact, he was praised as a national hero. Not a success, not when she had chided him so many times to settle into a normal career, but he was an asset to society.

Sherrinford was a family man. He married a wonderful woman, fathered three children that he loved more than his very soul, and kept up the squirehood that had been passed down to him by his uncle. A rousing success, but not hers to claim.

But Mycroft... He helped people, he helped nations, and yet she was never sure he knew he was doing it. She would receive letters on the project with his signature and seal, and yet could those cold government instructions be from a boy she had watched be tortured by the feisty Delilah Hart? He shut himself away from the world just as she had done until he practically purchased a wife. Surely _that_ was not healthy.

And Adelaide... Well, she had resisted any help given and scorned any concern. None could be held responsible for that hellcat.

When she reached the grave marker that read MYCROFT SIGERSON HOLMES, she placed the bouquet of purple and orange daisies on the ground. She would not kneel, there was a thin layer of snow, but she touched the cold stone and instantly felt the sorrow she had pushed away with physics equations for quite some time.

"Mycroft is married now," she spoke, her voice soft. She was not sure what faith best described her, but some part of her still accepted life after death. "And they're to have a baby, if his wife carries to term and delivers a live child. Imagine, Mycroft being a father..." She sighed, touching her steel grey hair. "Imagine me being a grandmother."

She was sixty-three; no use in denying that she was old. She was healthy for her age, but she believed that was because her mind was kept active. They all were horrified when she left to work for the government only two months after Singerson had died. They did not realize that if she stayed in that house with so many memories of him filling her empty mind, she would have gone mad.

"She's a pretty girl," she continued, voice even and level as if he were in the room, not in the grave. "Simple but sweet. I think you would have liked her. I always thought he'd marry Miss Hart... I suppose you were right. As you always were."

Violet did her best to brush the lingering snow from the stone. She had a train to catch. "If he is as good a father as you were, his child has nothing to fear. Goodbye, Sigerson."

With that, she made her way back through the village, silently wishing a normal child upon her son. She was not sure if the world needed copies of her offspring.

_AN: The bonus this week is largely Myke/Ann fluff, but it's also a little angsty as it involves Mycroft revealing a bit more about his father. Mostly cuteness, however._


	29. XXVIII

_My daughter is finished with her proper schooling, but now she wishes to attend higher education and college. I'm not against learning, but I'm worried she'll bury her nose in books and never meet someone to settle down with. How do I explain my concerns without insulting her?_

_Also, did you attend university? If so, which one?_

_- T.S._

Universities can be a wonderful way to meet people with similar interests, as even if a school is gender segregated there are usually mixed lectures and events. If you feel your daughter is becoming too immersed in her books, merely tell her so and perhaps suggest some young men she may find interest in.

I did not attend any further education, but most every morning, there's an academic lecture over breakfast on any given subject.

**I have been offered teaching positions, and the salary they listed would drive tuition up quite a bit. You receive private tutoring for free. - M.**

__

I have a daughter who is resisting all my attempts to help her become a lady. She would sooner run wild about our house than sit still and learn the art of embroidery, often abandons company to sit in her room and read and even refuses to wear a corset! I have tried everything I can think of, but she seems determined to bring shame on the family. What would you, as a lady, suggest I do?

- S.E.

My advice would be to take small steps; don't force everything on her at once. Introduce smaller things such as cross stitch before proper embroidery and stiff stays before a corset. Attempt to bargain with her, such as promising that if she entertains company politely, she can participate in activities she enjoys. A frank talk about how you feel about her actions may also be in order... When it comes down to it, I think most daughters listen to their mother's pleas.

__

I'm new to the courting world and although my young suitor is very nice and  
gentlemanly he doesn't have the female voice of advice so that's why I've  
turned to you. I work at Whitehall as an assistant to the French ambassador  
and my work often keeps me from seeing my Edward, he understands my long hours  
but I want know how do I make time to see him?

Also, when I address him in public, do I give him a title or do I just refer to his name and that we're courting?

Best Wishes,  
- D.M.

Although you may not have as much time to see him as you'd like (I don't think anyone ever sees their beau as much as they wish), there are other ways to show affection, the most popular being letters. There are few things more romantic than love letters, and they are tokens that will last for many years to come. For a face to face, meeting, however, you could attempt to meet in cafés or walk through the parks during your lunch breaks.

When introducing anyone other than a spouse to someone for the first time, one should use full titles and add that you are courting.

__

Often, friends and family visiting London wish to stay in our home here. While I have no issues with loaning it out when we are not in the city, we have three children, and therefore when we are here, there is simply no room for guests. Please suggest a polite way to turn down these requests; I don't want any bad (or spilled) blood.

- L.S.

When someone mentions they are coming for a visit, respond with an expression of your happiness and a list of local hotels that are within their price range; they should take the hint.

**When they show up unannounced and uninvited, it may be a wonderful time to hint that one of your children has a highly infectious disease. - M.**

_We live in a tight neighbourhood, and our backyard is separated from the man beside us by a fence. The problem is that it seems like every time the man is outside, he is smoking one of his cigars. I am very sensitive to any smoke, let alone a reek like that, and can't be outside when he is. As of such, my garden has become rather neglected. Am I destined to be shut up, or is there a way to approach this?_

_- G.T._

I sympathize greatly; I am very intolerant to smoke and the scent of it, and Mycroft smoked cigars when we were first married. The first plan would be simply explaining to your neighbour your situation and suggesting that he cut back on his smoke intake or perhaps leave it for his clubs. Failing this, build a higher fence and line it with ivy or another vine plant; they'll help absorb the smoke. Planting some flowers along with them might help the smell as well.

__

I adore cats and dogs, but unfortunately my husband is allergic to fur in general. You'll think this is ridiculous, but I can't even wear a fur stole around him or else he starts to sneeze (although I've heard people are actually allergic to dander, not fur, so maybe that's all in his head...). My point is, I miss a house with at least one animal in it. He sneezes as much at feathers, so birds are out, fish are boring, and I am none too fond of reptiles. Are there any kinds of pets that don't trigger sneezing and hives?

- Y.E.

According to Mycroft (although why he knows about dog breeds considering he holds little fondness for any animal is beyond me), there are types of dogs who barely shed and therefore are more suited to those with allergies. These include poodles, many kinds of terriers, and some greyhounds and spaniels. There are also many "unofficial" breeds that are nearly hairless, so I imagine that would alleviate many of his symptoms. Similarly, allergy resisting cat breeds are the hairless cats breeders make available (although be forewarned, I personally do not find them pleasant to look at...), and the more furry Siberian cats.

**Pets are far overrated. Trust someone who has to lock up his pens so that a certain cream and brown ball of angry fur does not gnaw them to bits. - M.**

__

I am a lady doctor, and the man I am marrying is also a doctor. As it happens, when I applied at several practises in London, the one that employs my fiancé is interested in hiring me. I was wondering if you could ask Dr. Watson for me; is it ethical for a married couple to work together in medicine?

- F.P.

Dr. Watson says that while there are no current laws against a married couple working together, you and your fiancé should have a serious discussion about whether or not you will be able to work together in high pressure situations and if you can keep any marital disputes that may arise entirely separate from work. If you will only be working in the same building and never as a team, I cannot see this being a problem, but it is something only the two of you can work out.

****

elsewhere in London:

Ann Marie gently rubbed her right hand, attempting to work out the cramps that were forming there. Between her column and her other project for Mycroft's Christmas gift, it had been a wonder she had not run out of ink entirely.

She had been at a loss for so long as to what on earth she could get a man like that, but things like that always seemed to have a way of working themselves out.

Slipping the final draft of the weekly column into a thick envelope, she headed out to catch a messenger outside, but Mycroft intercepted her.

"I'll take that; I'm headed to pick up something at Whitehall anyway. Marco Polo's in the sitting room, by the way. I think he's stuck."

The blonde heard loud (although unusually melodic for an animal) mewling, knowing he had entangled himself in one of the decorations again. She headed in, sighing when she saw that the cat had somehow managed to get one of the present bows lose and wrap it around three of his four socked paws so tightly that he could not get free.

She knelt before him, lifting him as much as was able in his confinement and beginning to work the green silk free. "Oh, you naughty thing...! I've told you a thousand times to keep away from the tree!" Her scolding was good-natured, however; she could not truly be mad with such regretful blue eyes. And besides, there was no permanent damage done other than a bit of ripping on the wrapping paper.

When she finally freed him, the Siamese gave a deep purr of appreciation, slinking up to perch on her shoulder nimbly (sometimes she swore he thought he was a parrot). Just as she was retying the bow (the box was one from Sherlock to her), there was a knock at the door. When the maid opened it, Ann Marie smiled at a familiar bark.

"Michael's horrified that his loud mutt has been in the revered Mr. Mycroft Holmes's house," smiled Rose as she let Duchess, a massive Sheppard, off her leash. Despite freedom, the dog heeled. "But when the maid's gone she always scratches the back door to pieces, and I thought you'd be a bit apprehensive with..." The dark woman glanced up the stairs. "Well..."

"We've talked, but she's mostly been avoiding me, I think," Ann Marie sighed, gesturing for her friend to come in. "I'll have tea put on; you must be freezing! And warm water for Duchess. You know, it's odd how she and Marco Polo get along so well..." Even as they spoke, the dog was patiently allowing the Siamese cat to scramble down from his mistress and scramble back up her back.

"I'm sure you'll work something out," she offered, trying to be helpful. A quick glance at the mussed tree prompted "Has he been at that again?"

"Yes... Again. Mycroft says to flick water on him when he does it, but I honestly don't have the heart."

A slightly mischievous smile crosses Rose's ebony face. While she was skittish and shy around strangers, she was much more apt to a bit of prying in good company. "You could likely rip the paper a bit more to get a glance in down the crack of the box and say the cat did it, you know."

The blonde merely rolled her eyes. "Rose, it's less than two days to Christmas, and I'm not a child anymore."

"More of a child than I am." She entered the room, glancing at the tag. "Oh, and it's from _him_...! You're not the least bit curious as to what the Great Detective got for you?"

Another roll of the eyes, and she tapped her friend's swollen stomach gently on her way to the kitchen. "You're to be a mother, and I feel like scolding you like one. Yes, I'm curious, but I can wait." She paused, frowning slightly. "Besides... Knowing Sherlock, when I open that box I may want witnesses present."

Rose could not help but laugh.

__

AN: The bonus is an AU inspired by a new RP I joined and too much YouTube researching. Two words; Disney World.


	30. XXIX

_Please answer a question that has me perplexed. Why do people collect autographs? __I do not understand the need for a collection of signatures, regardless of how famous -- or infamous -- the person may be. Can you perhaps explain this phenomena?_

_Also, have you ever been asked for your autograph?_

_-H.D._

I think the main point of asking for a person's signature is merely an excuse to talk to the person in question, not to mention to prove afterwards to their friends that they talked to them. I hear some autographs, especially signed books or scores, can fetch a lot of money, as well.

No, thank God. I think I would die of embarrassment if someone thought I was that important.

__

When planning my wedding, I wanted to include the release of white doves to symbolize a new beginning for my husband and I. My future sister-in-law claims that this practise is cruel; the doves are never taught how to live in the wild and die soon after. If this tradition is so horrible, why on earth do people still practise it?

-B.E.

According to Mycroft, the vast majority of "doves" released at weddings are actually white pigeons thoroughly trained to return to their well-tended roost after the ceremony. Merely make sure that whoever you hire for your wedding does indeed use trained pigeons. Personally, I'm not fond of the gesture, but then I'd never been fond of birds…

**I would share the story of this, but the bed in the spare room is entirely uncomfortable... - M.**

__

There is a young gentleman of my acquaintance who, I believe, wishes to court me. My parents would be delighted if I married him; I, however, have no romantic feeling for him. Should I discourage him before he begins to woo me, or should I let him court me?

- S.E.

I would recommend giving him a chance; perhaps he'll surprise you. If it does not happen soon, however, it would be best to let him down gently. Leading him on too long will only end in heartbreak for both of you.

__

Have you ever seen Dr. Watson actually courting someone? From what I have  
read of his stories he seems to be the kind of man who women regularly swoon  
before.

- R.T.

Have I seen Dr. Watson associate with women on a very personal level? Yes. He is a very handsome and well-mannered man, and thus does attract much attention. He has not seriously courted in the time that I have known him, however, and my current impressions of him are that he likely never will.

**Or for as long as my brother lives, in any case. - M.**

__

I am twenty-five and am one of those rebellious women who not only attended university but graduated unmarried. I am now working at a job I love and am making more than enough money to support myself. I am also happy with mere casual courting for now. My parents, however, keep wishing I would "grow up and get married". Is a person really not mature until they wed…?

- P.D.

Even though I married young, I believe that women should be permitted to work as long as they wish to. Try to ignore your parents; marriage will come at the right time. And as a married woman, I can honestly say I know unmarried women far more mature than I.

**Not a hard task. - M.**

__

I'm fairly sure a fellow questioner has already asked you this, but do you suppose there's a chance you and your husband may become the parents of twins (or multiples…)?

- S.R.

Hopefully not… I'm anxious enough about one child. There is no family history of twins (or more) on either side of the family, but I'm told that has very little to do with it, anyway…

__

I figured you would be the one to ask about annoying brother-in-laws… Mine, I'll call him "Lawrence", enters my personal parlour when I am not there and roots about as he sees fit. I know he is above taking anything, but once I saw the drawer containing documents about the household finances askew! I have asked him nicely, I have asked him sharply, as has my husband. Is there a way to get him to keep his fingers to himself?

- W.S.

Buy a desk that locks. If he has not learned by now, I doubt he will. You may want to consider locking the door as well.

__

Do you think that fourteen is too early for "mock courting", as my son calls it? While I know that the majority of the places he goes with this girl (his own age, and a respectable young lady) are chaperoned group events, I can't help but feel it's too soon.

- V.E.

At that age, the "courtship" is usually just getting used to more adult social interaction in a way that doesn't put pressure on the adolescent. As long as they are chaperoned in good hands (many debutante groups hold youth events), and you approve of your son's choices, there is little harm in it.

__

I was courted by a military man for three months before he went into Africa, and have been exchanging letters and telegraphs with him for nearly two years now. He is coming home in a week, and we are beginning to make plans to marry quickly. My mother insists that two years of communication "don't count as courting". She'll listen to you; she clips your column out nearly every week. What is your judgement call?

- N.B.

Oh my, I'm not sure if you should put so much weight in my advice, but here it goes… While I am by no means denying the relationship you maintained across borders, please spend a bit of time with the man before you make anything official. He may be different in the written word, and it's a horrible error to discover on your honeymoon.

****

elsewhere in London:

Sherlock did not even know why he was there, really. The rumour that she was in the city under a low profile had come on winds that were questionable at best. But did he really have any other way to spend a Saturday afternoon between cases? Besides, he had wanted to test out his disguise as a mild-mannered boy's schoolteacher.

He sat at one of the stone chess tables, smoking on a reedy, cheap pipe, thumbing through a book of chess strategies as he observed each and every face that passed by. If she was in London, she would be in this park, that he knew, and yet he had not yet seen her. He was about to call it quits.

"I'm the one who taught you how to play dress-up in the first place, you little brat, so don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes."

If questioned, Holmes would have claimed he jumped because he was still in the persona of the skittish schoolmaster. In truth, he was genuinely startled by a very familiar voice on a very unfamiliar face.

Normally, she was a very beautiful woman for forty, her coppery hair always neat and usually braided, wearing the highest fashions. At the moment she was laced with grey, dressed plainly, and carrying a cloth-covered wicker basket. There were world-weary lines all over her face, made plain, that would wash off in the bath.

"You read too much Dickens," he stated once he had gathered himself back into dignity. "May I ask what is in the basket?" Had it been a severed head, it would not have surprised him.

She peeled back a corner of the cloth. "Sugar doughnuts. Fresh."

Holmes did not have much of a sweet tooth, but he had a fond steak for sugar doughnuts. "What do you want to know?"

Delilah Hart laughed, sitting down next to him. "An excellent thing few people know your weaknesses, Sherlock. You'd sell England short for baked goods."

He looked affronted, and for a split second there was a glimpse of the boy he had been; tiny, curly-headed and petulant. "I most certainly would not. I merely think you have the right to know of some of Mycroft's going-ons." He bit into one of the sweets, despising the thought _For some of these, I might sell short one of the smaller counties. One of the ones no one visits often._

They sat in silence for a bit, the weary housewife and the teacher on his day off. Finally Delilah spoke.

"So she's pregnant."

"Mm-hmm," nodded the detective, trying to discern what mood this was proclaimed in. Perhaps jealousy? The woman was as sterile as the inside of a bottle of rubbing alcohol, but even if she was like a corn field she had always expressed hostility towards reproducing. "Someone dropped the word 'twins' in the centre of the city and last time I heard someone mention it they're calling for a litter. She's as embarrassed as can be."

Although it was mean, she gave a small chuckle. "Are first-time mothers always so nervous?"

"I've heard it's the norm, yes."

"I could never picture him as a father." Her laugh was still there, sweet and with no undertow of bitterness. "If it's triplets, I think he'll just will himself to drop dead on the spot. All that meditation he studied, he could probably make his heart stop beating if he tried."

"Odd thing is, he's caught somewhere between excited and nervous." Holmes paused between bites. "You know, for a brief time she thought herself barren… He suggested adoption if that proved true."

She made no comment at that, but it really said something. Not only would he tolerate her offspring if they happened along, he actually wished to be a co-parent with her. "He's certainly taken a different path."

"Lilah, he is on an entirely different road. Who knows? Maybe it's the best thing for him. And maybe it wasn't as sudden as it seems. He stopped being interested in brilliant women with razor tempers once he grew up a little."

Delilah arched a copper eyebrow. "Women like me."

"Yes, women like you. You're a friend first, you always have been and you know that. The few other women that he's lingered on knew as well as he did that there was an expiration date. With her…" Holmes sighed. He hated admitting it, but the woman knew when he lied and she was not too old to headlock him. "Damn it, when he looks at her, it's forever. Don't ask me how I can tell that, he just has that look in him that he never wants to move from that figurative place."

She sighed, turning her eyes towards the sky. "I suppose I'm happy for him."

"You suppose?"

"It's the civil thing to do. I don't love him, Sherlock, I'd swear on Shakespeare's grave that I'm not. I only think of him now because I can't have him. I never grew out of my stage of wanting to grab and hoard shiny things."

Holmes shrugged, snagging another doughnut. "You have all the young theatre boys you want. He had monogamy and a future of midnight feedings and diapers. Fair trade?"

Delilah grinned. "Very fair trade."

__

AN: This week's bonus for a submitted question is a sort-of spoiler piece for What Words Fail Of. It's not an outright spoiler, really, but it lets conclusions be drawn if one wishes.


	31. XXX

_I'm not the best cook in the world, so I'm trying to learn how to cook moreambitious dishes. Are there any simpler cookbooks around? All the ones I'veseen are very complicated and hard to understandBest Wishes,- D.M._

You might find your endeavour easier if you first read a book on the basics of cooking; there are many available and any good employee at a book store should be able to help you select the right one. A beginning book should inform you on terms, common ingredients and the like, so hopefully when you go to cook the recipe seems to be in a language you can understand. Also, try simple recipes and move up. Anyone will become discouraged if their first attempt is too complicated and fails.

_Does Sherlock Holmes eat a lot of fish?_

_- M.P._

He's not entirely fond of it, but he does like haddock and salmon. I do know some people think it's a food good for the brain, so perhaps he does not need any more of it…

**He's likely sick of the smell of common fish after spending so much time by the docks in pursuit of his cases. - M.**

_Is your husband very emotional over your pregnancy? Or is he even looking forward to being a father?_

_- G.P._

Mycroft says I'm being emotional enough for the two of us. He rarely shows most of his emotions, so it is hard to tell, but his expression when he first felt a kick was enough for me. I do think he is looking forward to having a family, but that's not to say he's not nervous. I hope that's normal, because I'm just as anxious…

_I have finished my time at a boarding school and would now like to find work of some sort. My parents, however, insist that I find a husband and start a family at once; they say it is not proper for a lady of my position to work. Do you have any advice as to what I ought to do? I really do not wish to have a family just yet._

_- S.E._

Everything is best if it comes at a person's own pace. If you wish to work, it may be in your best interest to give it a try. If it helps, mention to your parents that the work force (especially if you work as a secretary at a medical or law practise) is an excellent place to meet reputable men in a chaperoned environment.

**Do your parents and yourself a favour and do not seek a spouse at Whitehall for your own sake and safety. - M.**

_Are you aware that your husband imprisoned his younger brother under a laundry basket when Sherlock was a baby?_

_- K.S._

I was not aware of it, but nor am I surprised… I merely hope his child care techniques have been refined since then, or we may have to increase the hours we require a nanny for.

**In my defence, he was an extremely annoying child. And he bit. - M.**

_My nephew was born with a mental disability. As he gets older, it is becoming barely noticeable, but my brother had begged me not to tell our parents, who have only met their grandson as an infant. I do not like lying to my parents, but knowing their stance on the matter I do see my brother's reasons. Who should my loyalties lay with?_

_- F.E._

If you think family embarrassment or retaliation towards your brother may result, I would not be tempted to reveal his secret. You should respect his wishes, especially if you know that your nephew will not come of any good from meeting his grandparents. You do not truly need to lie; merely say nothing on the subject. If they have made no attempts to see him so far, they cannot be too curious.

_I have a friend who is quite obsessed with her weight; she constantly insists she is overweight and is taking drastic measures to lose weight, but in reality she is too thin as it is. I am beginning to think I should alert her fiancé (who is abroad) or her doctor. Is this course of action really necessary?_

_- R.D._

It most certainly is. As a rule, women can be illogical when it comes to their appearances, but sometimes it goes too far. Your friend's health is being gravely compromised, and you should tell both her family and her doctor. It is far better to lose a friend to hate than to lose one to death.

_A close friend and I are moving this summer to where our husbands, business partners, are establishing households across the country. To save money we are sharing hotel rooms along the way, but a concern of mine is that her son will be accompanying us, and he is nearly twenty. He too will be sharing the rooms. Is this entirely proper?_

_- T.J._

Although males that age are said to have only one thing on the brain, I have yet to see one so brazen as to make a move in front of his mother. You should be fine.

**From the mouth of a male, this is very, very true. - M.**

**Elsewhere in London:**

Dr. Watson sighed, gaze on his pocket watch and two fingers pressed to the blonde woman's wrist. He was trying to concentrate on the pulse and not on the argument beside them.

"She has no contract with you, I saw to that, she can miss a week or two! Can't you see that she's ill?"

"Mr. Holmes, your wife's column is one of our most popular features, a week or two will make a dent in our sales right before we go up for review! We need it in there! Surely she's not so ill that she can't put pen to paper!" Mrs. Kinsley, editor of The Constant Companion, glanced towards Ann Marie. "You're feeling well enough, aren't you, dear?"

Ann Marie only sighed, closing her eyes, free hand stroking the Siamese curled beside her, faithful as always. "I'm developing a headache rather quickly…"

Mycroft scowled. "She needs rest, ma'am, rest from everything including you!"

"Oh, and I suppose she never wishes for absence from your presence, sir!"

"Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Kinsley, please," spoke up Watson, hoping he would not be mauled by either of them. "While it is true Mrs. Holmes's condition is stable, she does need rest until she is entirely well again, and in my medical opinion she should not return to writing just yet."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Mycroft, making a gesture to shoo the bustling older woman out. Honestly, he respected working women to the core, but women like this needed hobbies outside the workplace. "My wife is likely wanting for sleep, so if you would be so kind…"

"Typical of a man like you, telling her what she needs! What right have you?"

"Dr. Watson here has a medical degree, so I'd say that gives him some sway in the treatment of patients!"

Ann Marie gave a slight groan, which caused the room to become as silent as the grave in a second. "Please… Please, could I simply sleep…? I'm feeling a little faint."

With a final frown, Mycroft jostled the female out the door, Watson following behind them.

She gave a sigh of satisfaction, giving Marco Polo's ears a rub and extracting a purr (the cat had refused to leave her side ever since he had been let into the bedroom). Truth be told, other than a sore shoulder from falling she felt fine, but if she did not have to listen to that nonsense, she felt no reason why she should have to.

"Now are you happy?" Mycroft spat out on the other side of the door. "She's been through so much lately, and there are more important things than your bloody periodical! Find someone else to write it! What about Mrs. Abbot?"

Mrs. Kinsley rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Personally, I have nothing against coloureds, but I have a feeling too many of our readers do."

"I could do it."

A pair of eyes flew to the doctor.

"I mean…" Watson continued, now unsure. "I write stories, so how hard could a simple column be?"

The editor snapped her fingers. "I've got a better idea! Is Mr. Holmes, the younger I mean, is he working on a case right now?"

"Er, he just finished one. Why?"

"Don't you think every woman in London wants to hear from the city's most eligible bachelor?"

"I don't think the world 'eligible' is very accurate. He'd never agree to it," sighed the doctor. "Besides, if given a voice at a group of poor women, I think his reputation would not do well."

"Can he be polite for a few side notes? Could you ask him?"

Watson had a feeling he was going to regret this.

**Dear Readers, this week's column was delayed because of a slight decline in health on the part of Mrs. Ann Marie Holmes. She assures her readers she is doing quite fine, but in accordance with her doctor's orders of rest, her column will be managed by the well-known duo Dr, Watson and Mr. Sherlock Holmes for the next while.**

_AN: You heard the woman; it's Holmes and Watson's turn to be under the lamp. The bonus this week is Ann Marie's top ten choices for names, as well as Mycroft's opinion on them._


	32. XXXI

_What happened with the giant rat of Sumatra?_

_- M.P._

It is gone, and if there is any sort of merciful deity in this universe, it will never return.

**Agreed.**

_Are you two romantically involved?"_

_- I.O._

No.

**Oh, what an intelligent question. Even if we were, did you honestly expect a truthful answer when the punishment for the two of us would either be deportation or breaking salt blocks for two solid years? I'm beginning to see why my sister-in-law is so popular amongst these people. Also, to whoever wrote that charming little series about Inspector Lestrade and I, I will track you down.**

_Dr. Watson, what is the most embarrassing thing Sherlock Holmes has ever asked (or made) you do in your association?_

_- K.S._

It is rather hard to pick only one instance, but I suppose when it comes down to it, it would be the case that involved, on my part, a dress that was brighter than I thought a piece of clothing could be and the lives of several people coming to hinge on me wearing it as a disguise.

**I keep telling you; I'm far too tall to be a convincing woman. And it really did bring out your eyes. **

Writing this article is becoming a close second.

_Do you think there could ever be female detectives, Mr. Holmes? Why or why not?_

_- G.Y._

**Not for some time, and before I am bombarded let me explain. Proper women attract attention if they are seen in public without an escort, even if they are older, limiting ones options to dressing like a lady of the street, restricting access to mainly the gutters. Maybe someday, and if there is ever a female detective, rest assured she will likely be **_**my**_** niece. **

Modest as ever…

_Doctor Watson, exactly where were you wounded while in Afghanistan, yourleg or your shoulder? Or both?Has Mrs. Hudson ever threatened to evict you both? I imagine chemicalexperiments and indoor target practice are not exactly good for the building.Mr. Holmes, do you like Doctor Watson's writing at ALL? (Personally, Ithink it's rather good.)Did the two of you have any sort of disagreement upon Mr. Holmes's 'returnfrom the dead,' so to speak?Is Mrs. Holmes aware that you're doing this?_

_-H.P._

I was originally wounded in the shoulder, and then I was struck in the leg after the fact. The shoulder is the worse of the two, although on some damp days it becomes a close race.

I believe the pair of us are the most frequently evicted tenants in London, and yet the treats are never followed through with. I suppose it should be noted that we pay at least double what the rooms are worth now, and that doesn't include damages.

**It should also be noted that I don't think Mrs. Hudson would be able to stand the quiet if we were to ever leave. **

**Oh, there are some parts I enjoy. I only wish, if he insisted upon writing it under our real names, that he would put such absurd words into my mouth. I hate to disappoint those who think my rough exterior hides a poet's soul, but that frilly speech about the rose never happened.**

I think the details behind that reunion are best kept out of press. Besides, the guidelines we were given states very clearly that no profanity will be permitted.

**Oh, she knows we're doing the column. That doesn't mean she's happy about it.**

_Is there a polite way to tell a healthcare provider you wish to stop seeing him? My current doctor is professionaland pleasant enough but there's a different doctor I like better._

_- P.Y._

Simply make an excuse. They're more convenient to your location, they're more specialized to your needs… No need to go into details. Doctors are professionals; they understand that people need changes.

_Mr. Holmes, your brother married a much younger woman, so would you feel morally right doing the same?_

_- R.H._

**You make it sound as if I would ever marry any woman. If I ever did, I would wait until she was out of school uniform to propose. Unlike some people in my family…**

_Aren't you ever nice to your sister-in-law? Do you just like to get under her skin, or do you truly wish your brother hadn't married her?_

_- T.E._

Holmes has outright refused to answer this truthfully, but I will do my best. Holmes's shots towards Mr. Holmes have come from outright hurtful to annoying. I think he enjoys teasing her; by no means does he actually loathe her. And I would say he is glad she married Mr. Holmes. Deep down, one wants happiness for their kin, after all.

_Doctor Watson, what has been your favourite part of sharing rooms withSherlock Holmes? And the same question to you Mr. Holmes about the doctor._

_- B.D._

Living with Holmes, there is never a dull moment. Through the horrors of war, there was a perverse sort of excitement, and I was certain that when I was discharged I would wither up of simple boredom. Be careful what you wish for.

**When Watson's here, there's always someone to be amazed at my deductions. It's convenient.**

_Mr. Holmes, a friend of mine stole a rather unique crystal figurine from my house the last time she was there. I did not want to believe she took it, and so I convinced myself it had been misplaced. Next time I visited her house, however, there was my one-of-a-kind piece displayed on top of her piano! How can I prove that she stole it as opposed to, as she claims, her finding it in an antique shop?_

_- R.T._

**Why bother proving she stole it? Just steal it back. She can hardly accuse you and lay criminal charges when she stole it in the first place. Cut out the middle man.**

**Elsewhere in London:**

"There," sighed Watson, finishing the final draft. "Done in plenty of time. See, Holmes? Was that really so hard?"

"Don't ask me, old chap," he murmured with a roll of his eyes, the majority of his attention focused on the test tube in his hand. "You are the one who had to weed out all the inappropriate comments."

He had an excellent point… He also had to weed out all the letters asking what Sherlock Holmes wanted in a woman (there were more return addresses on those ones, he had discovered) in which his friend responded with a rant that would likely make a person cry.

"Have you even been to see Ann Marie?" Watson asked, slipping the papers into one of the thick envelopes. "She asked about you last time I was there."

"I stopped by yesterday, but I didn't stay long. She was tired." He sighed, beginning to store the chemicals away when he failed to provoke the desired reaction. "It was odd. She's usually too cheerful, and she was so… I don't know. She merely seemed too old."

"She'll be fine with rest, Holmes, don't worry."

He bristled slightly, glaring. "I'm not worrying. Not for her, anyway. For Mycroft, perhaps. He's spending almost every free moment hovering around her like she'll melt if she's not constantly tended to. Honestly, what turns a man to acting like that?"

Watson's gaze was lowered. "The illness of one you love can do that."

Holmes had a strong desire to shove his foot in his mouth. "Watson… Dear friend, I'm sorry. I forget sometimes."

"I know, Holmes."

"You… You know what Mycroft feels because…"

"Because I attended to Mary."

"Yes. I apologize. Deeply."

"I am merely glad that Ann Marie will be herself in a week or so," the doctor replied, snagging his coat on the way out the door. He could get a messenger to deliver the article, but he needed the walk. "I could never wish that on another person."

Holmes winched at the door closing harder than need be. He needed to remember to close his mouth at times. Still, he had been right. As much as the blonde chit annoyed him, he wanted to have her around to regret having children. She would likely not be so weepy over an inability to conceive when there was little hands grabbing at her hair.

**AN: My AN got cut off the first time around... The bonus this week is a little Mycroft vs. Marco Polo piece. Simply because it's fun to write.**


	33. XXXII

_Mr. Holmes, when your ennui is at its worst, what song do you like to playmost on your violin?Dr. Watson, how do you and Holmes manage to keep away the more..."forward" ofMr. Holmes's female admirers?_

_- K.S._

**Mostly dramatic or mournful pieces from operas. For some particular reason "Ave Maria" is particularly good at soothing the soul. **

"Ave Maria", my foot. When he is in his worst moods, nothing he plays even remotely resembles music.

I like to think Holmes's personality drives off most of the woman who seek out his affections. I think his powers of repulsion dull with time, for it seems that Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Holmes, the two women forced to continue his company, have gotten to the point where his snark is more bothersome than hurtful.

_What do you to plan to do about the number of stories about the both of you currently circulating England?_

_Has Dr. Watson ever really scared you, Mr. Holmes, when you crossed the line? When was it that Holmes crossed the line?_

_And, finally, was the incident and Holmes emotional explosion during the Garrideb mystery really true?_

_- R.T._

It would do no good to try and stop them as apparently they are quite wide-spread. Having seen some, I must say that several are well-written, and I suppose I should be flattered people enjoy my writing so much that they wish to elaborate on it. As for the content, people are permitted to have their own worlds apart from reality.

**I'm finding whoever it was who wrote about Lestrade and I. I really do mean it. And the ones about Watson and Mycroft.**

**I don't know about "scaring" me, but he had threatened to move out at least twice after particularly nasty incidents, first with a case and then over my experiments. If no one actually was blinded, I don't see the point in arguing over it.**

Yes, that incident was true, violence and all. Despite being a rather barbaric display of loyalty, I truly was touched. Holmes actually wanted to leave it out, but I insisted it stayed in. I had to write it outside the flat and take it directly to the publisher because he kept destroying my other copies of it "accidentally".

_Do you have any advice to an amateur detective who feels he might like to dabble a bit in the profession?_

_- G.Y._

**Yes. Don't. Too many people read my stories and think detective work is saying the right thing at the perfect time. It's very dangerous work at times, as anyone who reads those romance-ridden serials should be able to see, and civilians should leave that work to the professionals.**

He's right. I've been trying to get The Strand to issue a disclaimer about the dangers of detective work for years.

_Tracking back the dates mentioned in Mrs. Holmes's columns, it seems she and Mr. Holmes's brother have been married about a year. Did you think the marriage would last, or that it would be a happy one, when it began?_

_- F.R._

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes did indeed recently celebrate their first anniversary. To be honest, I did not know either of them well enough to predict the outcome of their marriage, but I am very happy that they have a strong relationship and a forthcoming family.

**The girl's too refined to ever divorce, come Hell or high water, but I'm as shocked as they come that she's found at least something she likes in Mycroft. Lord knows most people can't do that.**

_Mr. Holmes, if you have a niece, will you still try to teach her the art of deduction? After all, you admitted that Irene Norton was very capable._

_Will you teach her your more physical arts such as boxing and fencing as well?_

_- R.H._

**I will admit that women occasionally show promise, and if my niece happens to do so then I will tutor her accordingly (it is not going to be left to the child's father; armchair deduction only goes so far).**

**Fighting, on the other hand, is useful for a female to know. A girl had to know how to defend herself, after all.**

I hope you're aware of the fact that after she reads this, Mrs. Holmes is not going to let you anywhere near that child.

_This is a question for both Watson and Holmes. Have you ever done anything major as adults that your parents disapproved of?_

_- P.E._

My parents did not live very far into my adulthood, and besides that they was always very supportive of anything I chose to do. There is not much fault to be found in a doctor serving his country, after all.

**There was an incident in their youths involving my brother, my older cousin, and several classified government documents. I cannot recount that story because of amnesty laws, but needless to say after that, anything I attempted paled in comparison. It was a bit of a let-down, really.**

_Does Scotland Yard ever get angry about all the laws you break, even if the end justifies the means? Aren't you afraid that they'll blackmail you with those charges some day?_

_- T.F._

**Yes, they often get quite angry. Recently, however, they have taken their pound of flesh. Vultures.**

**elsewhere in London:**

Watson had been resisting it since they had arrived, and finally he could hold it in no more. "You've actually become quite a wonderful dancer, Holmes. Your tutor must have been quite apt."

The detective growled a response. His sister-in-law was an excellent dancer only because she had paid more attention to it and other trivial rituals than she had to her actual academic studies. He would rather be intelligent than light on his feet.

The affair was larger than he had been led to believe, and everyone who had kicked enough money into the Yard seemed to be present. Three woman had asked him to dance, all of them over fifty-five, and with Lestrade breathing down his neck and practically cracking a whip at him, he had no choice but to accept every offer. Snagging a glass of red wine from a passing tray, he drank deeply.

"Watson… I am considering staying on the right side of the law a bit more often."

The doctor could not help but chuckle. "Then you have learned your lesson?"

"I said I am considering it, not that I'm going to turn into… Well, turn into a Scotland Yard investigator. I'd end up in the poorhouse." His grey eyes browsed the crowd, picking out donor from policeman. "I am surprised Mycroft was not sent an invitation. He never mentioned it."

"He was invited, but he said he was not coming. Claimed that his wife was not up to a ball just yet and said he wouldn't feel comfortable attending without her. Truth be told, I think he simply didn't want to come; the publisher informed me she's taking her column back, and not a week too soon. Mrs. Holmes would have been madder if she wasn't so sensitive over how she'd look in a gown now."

He could not help but snort. "Don't mourn for them, old chap. They're likely huddled against one another and gnawing each other's faces off as we speak."

Watson gave a wide roll of his eyes. "Ever the romantic. I will never know what our female readers see in you. … Or Inspector Lestrade."

"Watson!"

"Mr. Holmes," cooed an older woman who had sidled up to them seemingly out of nowhere. She wore a dress at the height of fashion and sported a mane of clearly dyed (although the homonym "died" might have also applied) black. "I was hoping I could catch you for a free moment this evening. People are saying you waltz divinely, you simply must show me!"

As he was dragged off (those old ladies were surprisingly strong) he found himself wishing he was dancing with his sister-in-law once more. At least she didn't attempt to break all of his toes.

_AN: The bonus is a little "One Year Later" piece on Eve. Could it be the start of a sequel...? Or could it be something I threw together in five minutes...?_


	34. XXXIII

_I am having a party at my house later this month. I wish to invite a friend and her parents, but her older brother is very prone to foul language. As there will be children present and this young man does nothing to hide his rudeness even in front of youngsters, I really do not want him at my party. Is it considered in bad taste to only extend the invitation to his parents and younger sister? _

_- K.S._

Before you exclude anyone, have you tried speaking with the older brother about his, er, linguistics? It may be possible he's simply unaware that you find that unacceptable and may keep it in check if he's asked to. Failing this, however, as you are not actually friends with the man himself, it would be perfectly acceptable to leave him off the guest list for the sake of the rest of the attendees.

_Doctor Watson, I know that Mr Holmes often does target practise indoors, buthow do you keep your hand in with firearms? Do you practise more often thananother gentleman would, seeing as how Mr Holmes' work is often dangerous? - M.P._

Dr. Watson visits his choice of firing range regularly, like most normal people with respect for rented property do. He does practise quite often, although heavens knows he gets enough practise in the field…

**Why on earth a person would pay to go somewhere and fire a gun when one can do it from ones armchair is beyond me… - S.**

_I currently reside in my parents' home, and although they provide me with everything I need, I have recently been contemplating finding a small job to give myself a bit of my own money to spend. What is your opinion on ladies working outside the home, and what sort of jobs would you consider appropriate for a lady to hold?_

_- F.F._

There are an increasing amount of jobs that women have proved they can hold, and although I think I would make a terrible working woman, I do hope that one day every job will be "appropriate" for women. Currently, however, your best chances would be as a secretary, a bookkeeper if you are apt with numbers, or a hostess at a restaurant. Pick something that you are not only good at but that you enjoy.

_Mrs. Holmes, no doubt you're paid for your column each week, and this may be a bit rude to ask, but what do you do with your private income? Do you and your husband share an account or are things kept separate?_

_- G.T._

There is only one account, but most of the money I make myself I donate to charity. Mycroft makes more than enough to support us, and he is a good enough man that if anything separated us, he would continue to support me as long as I needed it.

_My husband and I own a business together; it was originally my father's, and he gave half the stock majority to him as a wedding gift and left the other half to me in his will. We are equal partners, and we perform most of the same duties. My problem is that whenever we meet with clients or shareholders, I am always treated as if I am a secretary, or worse yet that I am "playing" at being a working woman and am only there for show. Is there any way to respond to this treatment other than breaking someone's neck?_

_- H.T._

**First of all, grow a backbone. If they treat you like a secretary, respond like the icy-hearted, iron-fisted tycoon that you are. Get mad at them. Investors want to make sure an employer knows how to maximize profit, and there's no better way to do that than to raise your voice once in a while. - S.**

_I don't quite know if you're the person to ask about this, but I could not think of anyone else… My sister allowed my nephews to name their pet rat after me. Should I be insulted?_

_- J.E._

Likely not. Chances are your nephews adore their pet, and as they gave it your name, it must mean they love you as well. And as your sister will tell you, once a group of boys get something into their heads, it's hard to talk them out of it.

**Thank goodness, or nothing would ever get done. - S.**

_My cousin and I were hoping that our sons, both under eight months, would get along so that we could sit for one another. Every time they're together, however, it seems they're grabbing at one another's hair and clothes… Is this a sign of rivalry, or is it merely like puppies playing?_

_- G.Y._

The later. I've been reading a lot of baby books lately, and most of them say it's quite normal for babies to want to grab anything that moves, including one another. Merely make sure they're not being too rough, and if needed put them down in separate cribs or bassinets.

_My stepdaughter is pregnant and expecting twins, and from her conversation she expects me to be an on-call sitter for her and her husband. I have no children of my own, had no younger siblings, and have absolutely no experience (nor desire to watch them). Do you have any suggestions on how to let my stepdaughter know this without sounding like an evil stepmother from a fairytale…?_

_- P.E._

**Have you tried just telling her you don't want to watch her offspring? You hardly have to pussyfoot around it. Chip in for them to hire a nanny, or tell her the reason you don't have children of your own is because you drowned them.**

We, of course, will be hiring a nanny as opposed to ever, _ever_ leaving our child in his uncle's care… Although the suggestion of contributing towards a nanny or a sitter is a valid one.

_As a pet owner and an impending mother, aren't you afraid that your cat might hurt your infant or make it sick? My mother never kept cats because she said they'll smother them in their sleep out of jealousy._

_- T.C._

There have not been any official reports of cats smothering infants since the middle ages, and unless a cat scratches the baby or brings in dead animals that the child comes in contact with, my doctor assures me there's no danger. My Siamese likely doesn't know what a mouse looks like, let alone how to catch one.

_I just broke one of the pieces in my best china, and while I'm far from hysterical, I'm also far from happy. There's no chance of putting it back together again, and now the whole set is uneven… Is there a solution to this, or am I merely going to have to resign this set to second best?_

_- H.J._

If it is fairly new, go back to the store where it was purchased and ask if they have odd pieces to buy. When inventory is broken in stores, they often keep the odd pieces to replace those in their client's sets for a fee. Failing this, you do not need to resign the whole set, simply never have more than eleven people using it at once.

_I've been waiting for the opportune moment to ask you these following questions. The first is for Mr. Holmes only. When you eventually retire, what would you occupy your time? _

_What are your favourite places to go in London?_

_And finally, are you both aware of a story floating around about Mr. Holmes's brother and a mystery woman?- D.M._

**I plan to remain a detective for quite some time, so retirement is very distant, but I suppose I would take up a hobby trade in the country rather than remain in London. **

**My London haunts include Simpson's, most reputable concert halls, and Scotland Yard (although I never enjoy being at the former. - S.**

I believe I'll answer the last one… I think many people are aware of that rumour. The woman in question is reputed to be a rather well-known actress that Mycroft knew when he was younger, but she has not lived in London for quite some time. If this story was true, believe me, I'd know.

**Little chance of that… - S.**

**Elsewhere in London:**

Watson entered the flat, sidestepping several piles of what seemed to be unrelated. "Good evening…"

Holmes was just putting his test tubes away in their proper slots. His equiptment seemed to be the only things he ever kept clean and organized. "Good evening, Watson. Back from visiting sister mine, are you?"

He nodded, sinking into his armchair and rubbing absentmindedly at his sore leg. "Yes… She's not too pleased about her editors wanting your comments to continue, but even she couldn't disagree with the numbers. Are you sure you're up to being a regular contributor?"

"I'd hardly call a line here and there a regular contributor, Watson. Besides, if I ever cannot do it, Mycroft has a way of imitating me in written word. He just thinks of what he would say and then says the opposite."

"Uncanny," sighed the doctor with a long-suffering roll of his eyes. "The poor woman is getting so anxious… And thanks to your blasted salt or sugar theory she's now worried she's going to give birth to a hermaphrodite. She's rather concerned about what one would dress it in."

"Gender-neutral colours I'd imagine," Holmes replied, as deadpan as ever. "Or pink on one side, blue on the other. They all wear dresses until they're three or four, so I suppose it wouldn't be an issue for a while."

"Don't you dare get her going about it, Holmes, not after I just spent god knows how long assuring her of just how rare the condition is."

"Oh, would you calm down?" sighed the detective, glancing wearily towards his friend. "I swear, old chap, you're nearly as wound as the expectant parents themselves. Is it a pity or a mercy you were never a father yourself?"

A heave of a sigh came from the armchair. "… Mary and I tried to have a child, you know. But after so long with no luck we went to a doctor… He examined her and found one tumour, and then another…"

Holmes had not been there for the conclusion of that play, but Mycroft has summarized the ending. He strode over, touching the man's shoulder almost gingerly. "I… I'm sorry."

"Just as well. A mercy, as you put it. A child should not be motherless if it can be helped…"

"Dear Watson… If it's any help, rest assured you're going to be as much as an uncle to this child, and any forthcoming children, as I am."

The doctor looked up, somewhat surprised. "I'm not of any blood relation, Holmes, and…"

"Blood be damned, who do you think the girl is going to trust more with an infant, you or me? Besides, I rather like the sound of 'Uncle John', don't you?"


End file.
